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• Artiste: Holocaust
• Titre: What Can The Matter Be
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[Intro: Holocaust] The Holocaust, The Holocaust, The Holocaust The Holocaust... [Holocaust:] A bat lives by hearing, the mother eats the moths and hats He captures in full flight, I pull a knife or a gun, you're watching a bullfight Can I strike in hooded knight, printed on the moon in gun heist My gun is a revolver type, there is no other man as hype As The Holocaust, despite hound, an Italian maidswoman Dropped a pale to the ground, when she saw a bloody mess As she heard a sharp sound, when the weight found Then I escape the town, cyclone M.C. Many bones are thrown for me, alot to eat You rock to sleep, from the great caves I stalk in Greece Piece by piece, God soldier alone, shown the feast Going to sleep, heads flow the street, not by themselves Some men retreat, love and distortion, bloody misfortune Calmly swept off their feet A phenomenon to natural science seek alone discrete Known unweak, and grown physique A phantom of a person living or dead, in a place Where his body is known to be, from Los Angeles To Manhattan, and back again [Chorus x2: Holocaust] What can the matter be? What can the matter be? I came from the Wu-Tang Academy, ain't no man mad at me [Holocaust:] The night scroll wind keeper and his end, were most You try to return and find both of which were ghosts Headless heathen and heroic heroes, on the shoulder of quote The Undertaker is skillful, the makers of widows, forsaker of the hills Behold, nature's criminal, creator of riddles, to break off windows Got a weaker armadillo, your rhyme is next to zero I bust your fucking head with a bat, in a table like Robert De Niro My throw game is for the fire walls, the rap population plummet American flag, a gun love it, a bird is warm blooded And carrying for this gift from heaven, the dark overlord was I wield fire sitting on a pillar thrown, the fucking warlock Edgar Allen Poe died in Baltimore, was found lying outside a boating place Probably on October 3rd, my gunshot through your shoulder hurt Your progress seems very slow, your accomplishes may not show Journey into an untouchable world, of darkness, bro I paralyze my pray, and take 'em to an underground shaft He who laughs best, laughs last, the smoke rises from the hours After a timid atomic blast, from Los Angeles To Manhattan, and back again [Chorus x4]