pro. Dylan Ross Written by Rozz Dyliams & Scum Illustration by Michael Shantz
from Rozz Dyliams JECK 3/17
Lyrics: A killer with a crooked brain. Beat knocker Hit you with that thang that'll put a dip up in yo fuckin' posture Give it up for the multi-tasker. Hit 'em up like a monster One time for the murder master, as I ignite the whole block up I got a need to kill in me. How do I shake this villiany? How do I deal with this, and how do I think these evil thoughts up Homicidal villian, kickin' killa game Like a wise .45 to the fetus to take away its pain Dylan 'bout to make a stang. I tear you up from limb to limb In front of your bitchass family, then I take you out the game Doin' it, doin' it. Put your head in a vice, and screwing it. In a barn. In the woods. Where no one know the evil that do exist While tetnis needles in your body fuck you and your mans raw Split you in half with my bansaw Stack all the pieces in bags, and drag y'all Right behind the building, and let the rodents have at y'all (Rozz)
Masters Of Homicide (Taking them out. Snuffing them out. Burning them up) Masters Of Homicide (Spooky sound) Masters Of Homicide (Cut them up. Choppin' up into tiny bits) Masters Of Homicide (Leaving a newborn baby sucking the milk out your severed tits)
Verse Two Creeping up on a happy couple, pulling a gruesome bloody double Homicide, when the knife inside of a gut, I cut from side to side When your limbs are tied with your own intestine, hoping you'd die But you won't. Im best in making this fun go on and on And your suffering, I'ma just prolong Motherfucka like me is what they calla human hater Sooner or later when we meet, I'ma greet your face with a hammer blow Shit I fuckin spit is raw like the dick of an angry masturbator Pretty faces mutilator, loving to let the crimson flow Buck buck buck, Im gonna be shooting up this party Droppin' a body after body, let the bodies hit the floor Drowning pool I'm about to use when I'm out of ammo for my shottie Holding their heads under the water, theres no bubbles anymore Then I'ma set this house on fire, yo Im freshly out of water Having to use it for the slaughter, leaving us none to put it out Let that motherfucker burn, and the ones inside alive They oughta wish they died, when they had the chance And I bet they do when I hear them shout (Scum)
Masters Of Homicide (Taking them out. Snuffing them out. Burning them up) Masters Of Homicide (Spooky sound) Masters Of Homicide (Cut them up. Choppin' up into tiny bits) Masters Of Homicide (Leaving a newborn baby sucking the milk out your severed tits)
Verse Three Kill 'em all. Fuck 'em all. Make 'em all pay I'ma stay knocking busters off until my dying day I awaky from a nightmare, excited by the hate You might find a trace segment, but you'll never find a tape I exterminate weak bitches blinded by the faith Try to pray the fuck up out the fact you gonna die to day Try to make me laugh, it's the lunatic psychopath On a funky bitch killin' rage-filled warpath I'ma stay damaging everything you stand for Dylan stands for independent waste management Early in the morning stuffing victims up in body bags And all my body bags came from stealing them from ambulances Cannabis is on my brain all the time. No duh. No dip, dimwit. Dylan make quota Many murder victims and I don't need no momentos Got a shrine in my mind, full of prized individuals (Rozz)
Masters Of Homicide (Taking them out. Snuffing them out. Burning them up) Masters Of Homicide (Spooky sound) Masters Of Homicide (Cut them up. Choppin' up into tiny bits) Masters Of Homicide (Leaving a newborn baby sucking the milk out your severed tits)