Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Durango ’95 (A Real Horror Show)’ by $uicideboy$. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of $uicideboy$ or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
Where you gonna go?
Where you gonna run?
Where you gonna hide?
Nowhere, ’cause there’s no one like you left!
That’s right
Glocks popping, bustas dropping, niggas duckin’ from this shit
Glocks popping, bustas dropping
Glocks, Glocks, Glocks, Glocks
Glocks popping, bustas dropping, niggas duckin’ from this shit
Glocks popping, bustas dropping, niggas duckin’ from this shit
Glocks popping, bustas dropping, niggas duckin’ from this shit
Glocks popping, bustas dropping
Glocks, Glocks, Glocks, Glocks (ah!)
Glocks popping, bustas (Sui) dropping (Sui) niggas duckin’ from this shit
Evil spirits takin’ over, now they runnin’ through my head
Telling me, “grip that fucking gun”
Telling me, “pop that fucking lead”
It’s a bird, it’s a plane, no, it’s Satan in the flesh
I’m that dead motherfucker steady smoking on that death
Satanic holy ghost
Snort that holy dope
Infrared scope with that dot right on your throat
I’m that scarecrow in the corner, welcome to my crucifixion
Graveyard living, murder itchin’, don’t be superstitious
Demons got my back, I don’t even fight it now
Black magic, voodoo power
Suicide’s exciting, now see?
Glocks popping, bustas dropping
Glocks, Glocks, Glocks, Glocks
Glocks popping, bustas dropping, niggas duckin’ from this shit
Glocks popping, bustas dropping, niggas duckin’ from this shit
Glocks popping, bustas dropping, niggas duckin’ from this shit
Glocks popping, bustas dropping
Glocks, Glocks, Glocks, Glocks
F*ck rap, and f*ck a rapper
Lets put ’em all in a fucking hole
I’d rather take a nap after I turn a blunt to ash
Creeping cracker on the chronic, feelin’ like a velociraptor
Pull pullin’ off the patch, but I ain’t takin’ off the fucking mask
Heard ’em gasp, closed their mouth with the fucking gat’s blast
Can’t rap about a fine dime’s ass no more
G 59 where the beast’s signs fine
F*ck a feast, I’m fine dying
Life gave me lemons, but I want a fucking lime
Ain’t got the time to die tryin’
Bitch, I know I’ll die alone
Either in a ditch or on a throne
Either way, in a pit I’m being thrown
Everything is nothing, and I’m fucking decomposed
Glocks popping, bustas dropping
Niggas duckin’ from this shit
Glocks popping, bustas dropping, niggas duckin’ from this shit
Glocks popping, bustas dropping, niggas duckin’ from this shit
Glocks popping, bustas dropping
Glocks, Glocks, Glocks, Glocks
Glocks popping, bustas dropping, niggas duckin’ from this shit
Glocks popping, bustas dropping, niggas duckin’ from this shit
Glocks popping, bustas dropping, niggas duckin’ from this shit
Glocks popping, bustas dropping, dropping, dropping