A Seita
Patrick Horla
The Sect
Accept, accept that I am
DJ Caique, audio-mental border in action
Patrick, doctor
Accept, the sect, that I am.
Who called you to hang out at the stand?
Make a mistake and we all beat you up
The hole I make in you never stops
Patrick just leaves the skin
Who called you to hang out at the stand?
Make a mistake and we all beat you up
The hole I make in you never stops
Patrick just leaves the skin
A programmed killer to rhyme
And when I rhyme, I start to kill
You can sign, the decree of revolt
You can vaccinate, my plague is back
Release, the FBI dogs
My smell is like a zombie, they will never feel
Twist, my attack can't be sensed
I pierce your epiglottis until you stop lying
Because here as soon as the band plays
A witch doctor in the Umbanda temple invokes me
Suicide makes friends and family
Feel like your private assassins
Vicent said, and anyone who analyzes life
Begins to formulate their own suicide note
I hate school, I hate tests, I love fights
You pee yourself, and say it's a bladder problem
I torture people who pretend to be happy
To see if they laugh as much when they are in crisis
Arsenal assembled, disappointed Horla
Unfortunately in this world your seconds are numbered
13 shots, 13 times, 13 dead
Blades that cut and leave bodies twisted
Now is not the time to believe in the amulet
Your body is drowning in cyanide, sleep in peace
Who called you to hang out at the stand?
Make a mistake and we all beat you up
The hole I make in you never stops
Patrick just leaves the skin
Who called you to hang out at the stand?
Make a mistake and we all beat you up
The hole I make in you never stops
Patrick just leaves, just the dust!
I represent depression in an empty body
And to kill a crowd all that's missing is the rifle
Externalizing madness, sterilizing tortures
Art imitates life deteriorating paintings
I'm the craziest, if you realize you won't fuck
My side is the plebs who drink and screw Hebe
Paranormal Patrick, on Caique's instrumental
A tribal cannibal and in the place I am the chief
Wattle and daub, don't tame me, or it will be tragic
Your end, I devour you like an anthropophagic
I end your picnic, your tricks
I drag you by the hair until I pull out your hairpiece
(My mind is an alembic) I produce cachaça
That splashes in the form of rhyme through the BIC
Be alert to animal instincts
My punch is like Vick, opens your nasal passages
(Is it Tulio Dek or Maurício Manieri?)
To me it's a bitch, pass the joint don't wait
(Is it Tulio Dek or Maurício Manieri?)
This is rap, little fag don't interfere
A serial killer, suggesting a fight
Sends you to the belly and in 1 second digests you
Even if I operate and one day recover
I will evaporate people because the world forces me
Fewer humans, more spaces
Who are my brothers? They are scarce
The world is a trap, from a horror movie
Who was born, fell into it, who died, escaped
Who called you to hang out at the stand?
Make a mistake and we all beat you up
The hole I make in you never stops
Patrick just leaves the skin
Who called you to hang out at the stand?
Make a mistake and we all beat you up
The hole I make in you never stops
Patrick just leaves the skin
Pass the knife on her, and pass the knife on her
Pass the knife on her, and pass the knife on her
Pass the knife on her, and pass the knife on her
Pass the knife on her, and pass the knife on her
Pass the knife on her, and pass the knife on her
Pass the knife on her, and pass the knife on her
Pass the knife on her, and pass the knife on her
Pass the knife on her, and pass the knife on her
Pass the knife on her, and pass the knife on her
Pass the knife on her, and pass the knife on her
Pass the knife on her, and pass the knife on her
Pass the knife on her, and pass the knife on her
Pass the knife on her, and pass the knife on her
Pass the knife on her, and pass the knife on her
Pass the knife on her, and pass the knife on her
Accept, accept that I am (without asking please, you bitches)
