Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Sarcophagus’ 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.
Point me a tone, right dead at ya dome fool
Point me a tone, right dead at ya dome fool
Point me a tone, right dead at ya dome fool
Point me a tone, right dead at ya dome fool
Run your mouth, bitch, run your mouth
Welcome to the devil’s place
Burning in eternal flames is where your body finna lay
Baker with the double Glock, he screams
He’ll break your fuckin’ face
Triple six is what we’re chanting while we’re tearing up the place
Run yo’ mouth, bitch, run yo’ mouth
What the f*ck you talking ’bout?
If you talking all that shit, then let me see what you about
G 59 in that motherfucking place
$UICIDEBOY$ and Ramirez taking over this bitch, mane
Anna got me clicking, tripping, ripping on my fuckin’ TEC
If a busta’ run his mouth, an’ then I’m aiming at his chest
Resurrected from the dead, Noob Saibot
Hit him with a fatal shot
Grip his heart and rip it out
Look into the fuckin’ darkness see the fuckin’ black abyss
Stare into the fuckin’ shadows and begin to worship the six
Talking to my demons inside of my fuckin’ head
Looking for the fuckin’ bloodshed
Murder is what they said
Point me a tone, right dead at ya dome fool
Point me a tone, right dead at ya dome fool
Point me a tone, right dead at ya dome fool
Point me a, point me a, point me a, point me a
Point me a tone, right dead at ya dome fool
Point me a tone, right dead at ya dome fool
Point me a tone, right, Point me a tone, right
Point, point, point, point
Point, point, point, point
Point, point, point, point
They recognize the Grey is twisted up with the six
Keepin’ the shit too thick, the $carecrow without a stitch
Got to lay it down to drop a busta or a sucka
Hail Satan, motherfuckers, keep the meanin’ undercover
Snatch a purse from your mother, put a bullet in your brother
Ain’t another motherfucker makes you suffer like I suffer, hoe
59 ways to murder all in one day
The $uicide craze will have you going insane
Stillness broken by reply
And still, they be wondering why I’m constantly getting high
And trying to just end my life
With a swipe of a rusty blade with $lick engraved
Tombstone without a name, I’m just another slave
Point me a, point me a, point me a, point me a
Point
Motherfuckers want to talk shit
Bark all you want, bitch
I know you see the shark fins creeping in the darkness
Now you nothing but an arm-less carcass
Bugs start to harvest
This was your fate regardless
Targets think I’m harmless, but they end up on my carpet
Threads turning scarlet, and so begins the carnage
Find them in the garbage
Carving in my name, I gotta say it’s fucking tarnished
Pull up with the motherfucking roof gone
Been too long
Wrote a blues song like Toussaint after Lucifer bought my soul
Blood spilling out my head like it was Dom Perignon
Long money in my palm
Calm as the fucking storm before the crack of fucking dawn, hoe
Point me a tone, right