night in the middle of a dream Fiery red dog eyes double beamed Telling me directions of my soul Poured my life inside a bullet hole I am Son of Sam
had a grenade to squeeze tight to awake neighbors for acres I murder you Danger had me turned into a mad man, son of sam, bitch, I'm surgical I'l allergic
big cunt But the fellas say go on my son, my son It's all a bit of fun 'til someone gets done But the fellas say go on my son, my son Well, I'm more likely
over a breeze, hand over your keys Damn nigga then you die with your keys wet Regret fuckin' with a nigga like me, cuz I be the Son of Sam You don't
tight to awake neighbors for acres I'll murder you, I gauge and have me turn into a mad man Son of sam bitch, I'm surgical I'm allergic to dyin, you think
life more serious I may sound lyrical and very mysterious Rhymes are grip tight, no grams to kill more A son of Sam, how could I begin more Grabbing the mic, you see the dark
the orphaned son you would never need"? But oddly enough I worshipped the ground my father walked upon. My brother and I were a strange mixture, as different as daylight and dark
Yeah, yeah, follow me Come with me to the dark side of the force No man would boldly go to this place The devil only knows of this world So dark and oh
to squeeze tight To awake neighbors for acres I'd murder you, I'd gauge and have me turn into a mad man Son of Sam bitch, I'm surgical I'm allergic
the son of Sam And the knife in the rippers hand I'm blitzkrieg, I'm war Consume life for ever more Unseen darkness Unseen darkness I'm sword in Kingu
You lied to me... [Fred Casely] That's right, sweetheart. That's right. [Roxie Hart] You son of a bitch... (shoot) Son of a bitch! You son of a bitch
a grenade to squeeze tight to awake neighbors for acres I murder you Danger had me turned into a mad man, son of sam, bitch, I'm surgical I'l allergic
and revelations Every bullet is a story They keep it glorified The media's the target And now they gots to die Son of Sam Sam of son Buck you
cunt But the fellas say, 'Go on my son, my son' Well, it's all a bit of fun 'til someone gets done But the fellas say, 'Go on my son, my son' Well, I
the money, I pull the trigger and damage ya Boom, taking life more serious I may sound lyrical and very mysterious Rhymes are grip tight, no grams to kill more A son of Sam
orphaned son you would never need"? But oddly enough I worshipped the ground my father walked upon. My brother and I were a strange mixture, as different as daylight and dark
I would often wonder, bordering on complete confusion, how a person of this description could rationalise life. This was a series of characteristics that many times in my life