Hell's Carousel (Bullet Ballet) by Ispank

SongGPT
Hell's Carousel (Bullet Ballet) by Ispank - Gothic Grime Hip-Hop With American Primitivism music cover art

Hell's Carousel (Bullet Ballet)

Ispank

Gothic Grime Hip-Hop With American Primitivism

0:002:37
Lyrics
Description
Oh, sirens waver, sir.
Hell hounds panting.
See your light come to life.
Playground rules till the streetlights die.
Now the pavement's chewing your alibis.
You peddle dime bags like Monopoly cash till headlights.
Hitto shit, that ain't no Camry flash.
Real danger, don't post, don't tweet, don't brag.
It's a black escalade with no license plates.
You freeze like deer in a high-beam stare,
While my choir's tuning up, hallelujah, let air.
Blink twice, that's your last prayer.
Clip empties, hell's a front stair.
Twenty bucks won't buy your soul back.
When the hounds hit, you'll beg for the morning flax.
Spin little I in the bullet ballet.
Blood pirouettes while your conscience decayed.
Trace around, scratch your name in the dark
While your gangster dissolves like chalk in the rain.
Spin little I in the bullet ballet.
Hell's carousel plays your last replay.
Tires scream hymns, muzzle flash grace.
You're just another punchline in the reaper's mixtape.
Front door's hella with the boot kiss frame.
She's got a 38 and a smile like Kane.
This the energy you wanted, right?
Heal on your windpipe, bite the light.
You thought the game was just grams and grams
Till the real players showed no hands, just hands.
Your empire crumbles like baking soda pride.
Now the devil's got a front row seat to your suicide.
You'll build a throne out of baggies and lies.
Now watch it melt in the crossfire skies.
Hell's carousel don't stop for prayers.
Just spits out clowns in the body bag layer.
Round and round, the shells eject.
Laughing as your silhouette resets.
Hounds are dancing, tongues unroll.
Welcome to the end of your control.
Spend a little life in the bullet ballet.
Blood pirouettes where your conscience decayed.
Trees surround, write your name in the dark.
While your gangsta dissolves like chalk in the rain.
Spend a little life till the record skips.
Hell's carousel loves counterfeit chips.
Oh...
R.M. Satan
Sunday church bells
A single shell casing rolls
Click, stop, stop