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Frontline Terror

This song is by Fliptrix and appears on the album Third Eye Of The Storm (2012).

When there is no more room in hell
The dead will walk the Earth


Body parts flying life's hard like cars dyeing
Wanna say its gunna get better but I'm part flying
So gutter make a widows star sign start crying
Pain in the liquid form drippin' from my torn eyelid
Situation volatile
Operation trident
All I here is war talk court orders more violence
Far from a walk in the park it's a minefield
Pressures building up about to blow
That's how my mind feels
Never use my signature
No one's got the right deals
Clutching at my mic skills
And running for the high heels
Puffin' on a blunt is death
Clucking for some nice thrills
Losing my emotions that I thought I was designed to feel
Knowing deep inside
That its something only time will heal
Like turning people into road kill behind the wheel
Close your eyes see them still
Still a still life still dead skulls fractured
Road collapses
Rotten corpse broken mattress
Candle lit total sadness
Falling backwards into holes of blackness
So follow me let your soul get captured
With no return 'cause your ghost holds the warranty burn
Your body in a quarantine
Search for your inner peace
Abandon that grief stack cans like police
The tactical man thinks deep on the dilagence beat.

We hold it down with the frontline terror
Raising the ground up
Gutter style forever
Lace your roots
Mask up and don't mess up
Hold it down on the frontline
The frontline

Ramson Badbonez

Check out my frontline terror
Rendering error makers
I'm the pressure blending babies
In the shredder for my leasure
Make her bru the naked crew
Who came into this danger room
With barbarians war I'm the wanderers in ancient spooz
My coalition holds position
I'm the war cloud
You bought your little sister in the whore house
With her draws down
Karich the garcy
Had to get her knickers off for half a gram of marley
I'm smacked arms and tracks
I'm carving shanks from larva lamps
Heavy artillery blasting you imagery
Pandemonium in the street
But no police to walk the beat
Fake fuckers catchin that map
Cuddling face huggers
Alien smugglers got map
Krusader space chuggers
Open up the stash and load that gat
And let it vent
Holy book fanatics wont back chat
My seventh sense
An old man with gifted ears
And a twisted beared
Who disappeared nine hundred years ago
Speaking like sixty years
In chronological or alphabetacal order
I grab the neck of your daughter
And splash her head in the water
Sawn off shotty filled up with copper coins
And hot lead
Gate crashing your complex with no feds
To drop dead
My frontline terror
Whatever the weather apply the pressure
Blend your friends up in the shredder for my leasure
My frontline terror
Whatever the weather apply the pressure
Blend your friends up in the shredder for my leasure

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