Lyrics:
the 1780's, but I didn't wear make-up 'Cause I feel as, you know, an artist I'm qualified to tell any story, and uh It was a piece called Whiplashes and this
Trapped until a nigg get out of 'Caine And bounce back like whiplashes And dump my cigar ashes on you asses It's still Trice and Mathers all that matters
whiplashes She turns her craft To the next fat secret grove
the fastest punk em' like cashes And when I crash this you catch whiplashes Bitch I'm on a mission to listen and give descriptions Hung G's in my hood in
and the gods are vengeful Against my skin, whiplashes begin Trying to fade out, leaving this so hungry mouth You can't steal the fire to heat up humanity
whiplashes All that anger made her breakdown All our pics on her page She take down Love and hates a common place now But thats what happen when she Breaks
and someday make good music became my mission as time passes I started making sacrifices I even practiced my rap verses during classes many whiplashes by my
whiplashes in the city Is the norm Is the norm
empowered by the recollection of back when I was handin' out whiplashes to women, not givin' a literal fuck 'bout the backlash I'd be givin' by spittin', so
Their whiplashes are painful Chastisers of living flesh Gothmog, Durin's Bane Fire of the centuries Fire! Of the Fire of the centuries! Fire! Of the Fire
on just how we gonna overthrow they bitch asses, give whiplashes from the force as we make it tight, and ignite the flames of takin' over daily life,
whiplashes I frighten the masses Cause I'm that nasty I heard to get a deal you had to give lap dances This shit is serious Sincere it is The people
shadows Pursued by many masks Flogged by whiplashes Branded like stock before the war I never die before - I hear your vioce I never die before - you
give me neck suffer from whiplashes, I frighten the masses, Cause I'm that nasty, I heard to get a deal you had to give lap dances, This shit is serious,
Whiplashes, I'll fly right past you, see you later And what you can't see Is that me leaving you, is doing you a favor? 'Cause I can't be Trust that my
the men you have to scare You see their axes shining And their long black hair Soldiers of hell Whiplashes, sword strokes The avaricious tyrant
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