Language of Pain

[Verse 1: Insane Poetry & SCUM]
(Yeah!) We speak the language of pain that is our covenant
With a blunt force to the brain give you a lead pipe punishment
That's how we treating the game, we ain't the ones to be fucking with
Toss your limp body in a dungeon quick
Hella sick but not seeking a cure like
Cannibals needing fresh human flesh
In a bath feeling pain of a pure kind
You will be as you scream while we slash
It's a butcher brother bonfire, burn 'em at the stake tonight
You are found guilty so it's time for you to pay the price
Gas 'em all down, sеnd they ashes to the aftеrlife
SCUM, grab the matches feed, you to the fire that we light
Get the knife, get the body, strap it down to the table
Get the saw and the scalpel, get the gag and the bag
To collect body parts when you're drawn apart, trying to help
And make it last 'til the next one's drug inside by they neck

[Bridge 1: Patrick Bateman (Christian Bale)]
My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone, in fact I want my pain to be inflicted on others

[Chorus: Insane Poetry & SCUM]
Yeah! We spit the language of pain (That's on our dossier!)
Mics get lit into flames (That's on our dossier!)
We killing stages and tours (That's on our dossier!)
Taurus, we just rage like a bull (That's on our dossier!)
Yeah! We spit the language of pain (That's on our dossier!)
Mics get lit into flames (That's on our dossier!)
We killing stages and tours (That's on our dossier!)
Taurus, we just rage like a bull (That's on our dossier!)

[Verse 2: Insane Poetry & SCUM]
This desolate darkness, bitch, was left for the carcasses
Severed up arms and limbs left by the garbage lids
Found by apartment kids right before darkness lifts
No one has seen a thing, no one gon' call the pigs
That we no longer fit in this society
In my desire to kill fucks with my anxiety
But when we leaving it and cops are in a body bag
You won't be breathing, snuffed by us and painted bloody red
The art of violence, yeah that is our random acts
We are the talents yeah, we like to plant the axe
To the back of your spine, filet your meat off
It's horrorcore, we define the plate you eat off
We cut your feet off at the ankles, cannot run away
And plus the pain that you feel while trying's like a hot
Poker inserted with much force directly up your menstrual
Makes you crawl right to your grave plot where you'll rot

[Bridge 2: Mike Tyson]
I'm the King of the Barbarians. There's no one that can...that can surpass me. The pain I've endured. I am not angry, I am in pain

[Chorus: Insane Poetry & SCUM]
Yeah! We spit the language of pain (That's on our dossier!)
Mics get lit into flames (That's on our dossier!)
We killing stages and tours (That's on our dossier!)
Taurus, we just rage like a bull (That's on our dossier!)
Yeah! We spit the language of pain (That's on our dossier!)
Mics get lit into flames (That's on our dossier!)
We killing stages and tours (That's on our dossier!)
Taurus, we just rage like a bull (That's on our dossier!)