The Blast Chamber

Face like a hound with that wicked psycho sound
Goon stand down from the anger in my frown
A killer with a crooked jaw you know I'm fuckin' down
Get off the corner before you get lights out
I don't need to kill ya I'll just let ya do it now
I'm from a different world you don't know shit about
You can try all that you want
You can try to pay your way in
But at the fucking day's end
All I do is count
I look a little more like Dracula the more I count
All you do is rack em' rack
All I do is rack out
It was always too risky to sell drugs cause I wanted to have too much to lose
And so I had to choose a different route
It all comes with a price though cause at the end of the night
I start hearing whispering going on inside of my house
And when I wake up its a brand new day
I still manage anyway even if the voices are loud
Living trapping bedlam is an issue but I'm riding
And I slide like 95 but I ain't ready yet to bounce
Killer from Lorain County seek you like a bounty hunter
But all I wanna do is to put you in the ground
Dyliams never finna die just like a wicked clown
No matter where I'm going I'm still 4-4-0 bound
You don't know shit
Get yo dome hit
I'll make it open like a lotus and your brain will pop out
Whats the word now
Dylan is a mean man
I just wanna watch you fail and lose everything that you have
I'm stuck inside a world of mackin' and I'm feeling trapped
Cause there so much shit that I wish I could unlearn but I can't
Now its time to go back
Henwell and Brokaw
Get your neck broke off for fucking with my camp
No jive boy, Dylan goin' live boy
Roll up in the pro five and leave your pro clubs damp
Mind of the savage paper chasing money free
Who operate above the law because the game is free
You fucking with my cartel
You do more than pay as you go
Cause for the rest of your fucking life you pay it up to me
But I still kill ya anyway no matter what you offer
Cause I control your fate so you disappear like Hoffa
Now we bout to pull a deadly stang unlike no other
Flashbacks of riding in the Buick with my brother
I love the smell of rotting death more than the smell of cash
I am the wicked shit I don't need no make-up for a mask
R O Double Z is synonymous with the sounds of apocalypse ain't no way for me to be anonymous and so its time to blast

Welcome to the blast chamber
Trapped inside a life of anger
Momma should have used a hanger
So now I pose a deadly danger [x2]