Dead Up - Celph Titled

Uh, Celph Goddamned Titled!

Dead Up motherfuckers!

I’m known as the Swiss Cheese Ar-tist!

Your torso make a good canvas to put red holes in!

And I’ll make a grilled cheese if I want to, bitch!

Let’s go!

Yo!

It’s Murder Death Kill, kickin' the same old shit

We do it my way, kidnap and flame broil your bitch

I live in the dark, so much that I hide out from the moonlight

With my team, you not just losin' fights, you losin' lives, so… (Grr!)

Run from the gauges, when you see these pumps

I’m on some backwards shit bitch, never see me front (No!)

Went through the block and I hope that they wish you good luck

We ripped the Holy Grail to shreds and made some motherfuckin' woodchucks

Your hood’s what?

Better tone that voice down!

'Cause we gon' come to your kid’s room and melt them toys down (Yeah!)

Real evil mean bastards that peel lethal machine action

Rip through your ribs, explodin' pieces of spleen fragments (Uh!)

Leave you gaspin', face turnt purple (Look at him!)

You’s a fake player, can’t pass the first hurdle (Nope!)

Fuck a prostitute raw, you get the worm fertile

I can’t wait to hear the bitch say that she burn Urkel (Fucker!)

I’m about to tear shit up!

Just shut up!

Fuckin' with the psycho crew, die!

Well get wetter, 'cause I’m better

I’m catchin' bodies and the next one could be you!

'Cause I don’t give a fuck about you!

Spit in your face and slap the shit out you!

That’s how I like to do work!

on my t-shirts!

You jelly-mouthed motherfuckers 'bout to get sandwiched

True School rappers, y’all boys is dead men on campus

I stay drunk all the time, guarantee my liver’s flammable

I grip handles, and pull triggers even watchin' the Disney Channel (Whoa!)

We knew you faggots wouldn’t just come out the closet

You comin' out the wardrobe with pink panties that’s crotch-less (Bitch!)

Celph Titled puts bullet holes through your blood vessels

Place you on sale and slap you with a toe-tag special (Damn!)

Know that, I’m a rap rebel, that bust gat metal

Cook raw with a black kettle and let all the crack settle (Yeah!)

Go get your little guns, we got a rocket launcher

That’s responsible for the disappearance of your label roster (Where they at?)

Science confused by the state of my alchemy

Drag you up the staircase, toss you off the balcony (Later Bruh!)

Shoot you, we’ll shoot your fuckin' bitch also

Throw that fake weave off, expose that bald head pronto

I’m about to tear shit up!

Just shut up!

Fuckin' with the psycho crew, die!

Well get wetter, 'cause I’m better

I’m catchin' bodies and the next one could be you!

'Cause I don’t give a fuck about you!

Spit in your face and slap the shit out you!

So I could take 1, 2, 3, 4 and leave your whole face swoll', ho!