Everyone [2001] Songtext
von Esham

[Talking]
Killas
Everyone′s a killa now-a day
Killas
Let me tell you about some killa shit
Yo, everyone's a killa


The first time killas made an attempt on my life
It was all about some money, it was funny
So I laughed, blood bathed it off
That bastard′s soft
Grab my pistol, I'm shootin' missiles
Here′s how you can be a super rap star and people try to kill you too
It′s funny like that when you rap about death
The shit really follows you like every other breath
Watch ya step, a thousand black crows fly through the sky
I hear voices in my head, everyone must die
Why? I dunno, shot another rapper wit' the .44
What the fuck fo′?
Deep in my psychosis lives this ferocious monster
That just wants to crush, grab guns, squeeze triggas, bullets bust
Still can't get enough, what a rush
Blood stains soak the plush
Carpet, oh shit
Brain matter all over the room scattered
Killas don′t talk but stalk the streets
I'm a complete cannibal, cookin′ ya dead meat
The Seventh Sign, walk da flatline
Forever through time, eternally out my mind
While you keep tryin' to save souls from dyin'
And Hell is still hot and muthafuckas still fryin′
And I ain′t lyin' about abortion
′Cuz you can 'KKKill the Fetus′ and still hear ya baby cryin'

(Chorus)
Everyone... must... die (Everyone must die) [8x]


Everyone must die, I have no excuses for mental abuses
My uzi is useless without the clip in it
Deep inside the darkness I slowly slip in it
Murder by the minute, true confessions of a Smith and Wesson
Livin′ in Detroit all my life caused me to 'Mental Stress' and
′Panic Attack′ and manic depression
Blastin' any assassin, askin′ no questions
Murder for hire, my guns won't retire, you′ll forever feel the fire
Your desire to die collides with my obsession to just let slugs fly
Why must I live like this?
Blood stains on the floor from my slit wrists
Suicidalist, mental poisionest, the flow grows slow into a dark Lotus
'Dead Flowerz′ in the 'Midnight Hour'
All people kill for the powder of power
Whichever comes first before the guns burst
Life indepentent or the back of a hearse
What′s worse than a wicked rhyme I disperse?
Shells from a gun as I yell and curse
Shells from a gun as I yell and curse
The shells from a gun as I yell and curse

(Chorus)