I'm almost there. I'm almost there, but not quite
Traveling through the bayou, feel the eeriness at sunset
My senses on high alert, so I say, "Hello! Who's there?" Nothing
Like a whistle in the wind as I move on forward
I hear the leaves rustling leaves rustling
In a state of grace words I shouldn't have said are all forgiven
All the days of bad forgotten
But still, to me, revenge is a dish best served cold
Like ice cold with an ice pick and a blindfold
I'm going, going, gone. I said, "I'm going, going, gone"
Time to meet your maker. Time to meet your maker
I'm prowling, growling, howlingHangman
A bullet a piece for the two of you
(Hey)
For youLow deep nasty
You chopping me down like the Amazon
No getting past me
Two feet in the air
You wouldn't last a marathon
Racing with the panther
The maximum price-ah
Curator of the faith-ah
I'm never too late-ah
Don't shoot the messenger
Shoot the messenger's mother
FffffuckerHangman
A bullet a piece for the two of you
(Motherfucker)
For you
(Fatherfucker)Hangman
A bullet a piece for the two of you
For youHangman
A bullet a piece for the two of you
For youHangman
A bullet a piece for the two of you
For you
Songwriters
KAYUS BANKOLE, GRAHAM HASTINGS, ALLOYSIOUS MASSAQUOI, TIMOTHY BRINKHURSTPublished by
Lyrics © THIRD SIDE MUSIC INC. Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.