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

0:003:02
Lyrics
Description
... Oyyy, Oyyy, Oyyy,
Oyy, oyy...
I'm not expensive.
So, I talk to love.
Playground rules to the streetlights die.
Now the pavement's chewing your alibis.
You peddle dime bags like Monopoly cash.
The headlights hit, oh 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 the high beam stare.
While my choir's tuning up, hallelujah, lay near.
Blink twice, that's your last prayer.
Clip empties, hell's front stair.
Twenty bucks won't buy your soul back.
When the hounds hit, you'll beg for the morgue slack.
Spin little liar in the bullet ballet.
Blood pirouettes where your conscience decayed.
Trace around, write your name in the dark.
While your gangsta dissolves like chalk in the rain.
Spin little liar 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 held low with a boot kiss frame.
She's got a 38 and a smile like cane.
This the energy you wanted, right?
Heel on your windpipe, bite the light.
You thought the game was just grams and grams.
Till the real player 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 built 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 lair.
Round and round the shells eject.
Laughing as your silhouette resets.
Hounds are dancing, tongues are rolled.
Welcome to the end of your control.
Spin little liar in the bullet ballet.
Blood pirouettes where your conscience decayed.
Trace around, write your name in the dark.
While your gangsta dissolves like chalk in the rain.
Spin little liar till the record skips.
Hell's carousel loves counterfeit chips.
Sirens fade to Sunday church bells.
A single shell casing rolls.
Clicks.
Stop.