The Filthy

There's some death on your face
And in the shit that you say
There's no light in my eyes
And my O's raped by an I
Think I'm an asshole
But gimme the bottle
Split on me, pussy
We are the filthy

The ground is calling, the ground is calling

Death is our taste
We taste up it with drink
Hate in a blast
And forget all your dreams
Death is our taste
We taste up it with drink
Hate in a blast
And forget all your dreams

So you laugh at my face
Like if you all are the best
You don't know what I think
And the joke is all on me
Yelping you poodle
But gimme the bottle
We are too busy
Being the filthy

The ground is calling, the ground is calling

Death is our taste
We taste up it with drink
Hate in a blast
And forget all your dreams
Death is our taste
We taste up it with drink
Hate in a blast
And forget all your dreams

The ground is calling, the ground is calling
The ground is calling, the two twins obscene
The ground is calling, the ground is calling
The ground is calling, the two twins obscene

Death is our taste
We taste up it with drink
Hate in a blast
And forget all your dreams
Death is our taste
We taste up it with drink
Hate in a blast
And forget all your dreams
Death is our taste
We taste up it with drink
Hate in a blast
And forget all your dreams
Death is our taste
We taste up it with drink
Hate in a blast
And forget all your dreams



Credits
Writer(s): Emile Georges
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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