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Esham - The wicketshit will never die lyrics

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The wicketshit will never die by Esham

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6
Here comes the voodoo what'cha gone do when my crew
Back from the dead once more again
f**kin' up the flow again, f**k it here we go again
Oh, not me again, last time I wrecked sh*t
Burned down the church comin' through like the exorcist
Next to this, you get put on my sh*t list
Throw lifers get dissed you can't f**k with this
Wicked wild, wicked style, I don't give a f**k I'll get buck wild
I'm psycho just like Michael
And I might go a little something like this, suicidalist
Dangerous minds bust when I bust
Digging up dust now I must, in God you trust
If I add just then I add just this
No justice, no peace, bloody body police
Belly of da pig got me fiendin' for a cracker
Jack be nimble make your body tremble
Cardiac arrest for the one in the chest
Then I K-I-double L T-H-E-F-E-T-U-S
Yes, I'm down with N-A-T-A-S, I suggest
You try but don't cry, 'cause the wicked sh*t'll never die
Once again I ressurected niggaz unexpected
A closed casket when I leaped out and blasted a basket
Case brother of insanity I'm not alone
Havin' fatal thoughts of puttin' a chrome to my dome
Now what kinda wicked sh*t? This some ol' wicked sh*t
Not so many niggaz all over devil diggin' sh*t
Stay up off my dick, my style's sick, but I'm so sick of this
Helter skelter bite my sh*t, it's so ridiculous
I know my sh*t's phatter than Luther Vandross
Psychic connection wanna hit me with the holy ghost
Overdose, diagnose, niggaz in a comotose
Once I buck, buck ya, nigga motherf**k ya
Voodoo wicked child born a bastard
Visions of bloody bodies bein' blasted
Thinkin' of excuses, voices in my head mental abuses
Loses my mind, thought the flatline refuses
To answer, you can fess sh*t as you question
Me and myself verses Smith and Wesson
I'm that nigga with the wicked ass flow
b**ch you better act like you know
'Cause the wicked sh*t will never die
The wicked sh*t will never 187
Never go to heaven and f**k that reverend
All day whenever and
Feel like givin' up, mind starts blowin' up
Some old wicked sh*t, once again I'm throwin' up
A fit, I'm never gonna get into heaven
That's why I bought me a three 57
f**k a reverend, and God I can't trust is true
So when I go to hell, better me and not you
I'ma walk the bloody trail and you can follow if you want
If you truly understand but my man I think you don't
I'm a suicidal revital, my title's homicidal
So many niggaz will die when I write my recital
They don't understand that I gotta plan for the klan
The area nation, white caucasian
I'm sick of all the bullsh*t I'd rather be dead
But first I better put a bullet in your head instead
They said that everything I said was a lie
But if you go and kill the fetus you cry
But the wicked sh*t will never die

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