Eastern Block Psalm Lyrics – Scrim

Read the full Eastern Block Psalm lyrics by Scrim along with the music video, song credits, release information and other details about the song. If you enjoy Scrim’s music, you can also explore Cortisol and A nightmare worth pursuing, two other songs by Scrim.

[Intro]
Oh-ah-oh (You did good, Slick)
Oh-ah-oh (It’s a Smash)
Oh-ah-oh, oh-ah-oh, oh-ah-oh
Ohh, they mad, they mad, hah
Yeah, they mad, they mad
Ohh, they mad, they mad, hah
Yeah, they mad, they mad

[Verse 1]
I’m a northside killer, yeah, grave filler, yeah
A opp brain spiller, yeah, pull the trigger, yeah
Put a cop in a swisher, yeah, pill sniffer, yeah
Eastern Bloc Spinner, yeah, fingers in the air
Fu*k a b!tch, ima dog yeah, Slick a hard head
In the kitchen cooking raw, yeah, until it’s hard, yeah
Screaming “mother fu*k the law” yeah, we ball here
Codeine sipping, I’m a barre head, retarded
Got a thing for some big weapons and thick women
I keep tryna get the dose right, but keep missing
Put another bullet in that boy, he keep twitching
Throw the 3 up like I’m trigga trey, I keep swishing
Two wrists, that’s four tones, Bentley snow cone
Chain worth a home loan and that’s with no stones
Big truck, fu*k the ozone, getcha roll on
Shooting till my veins blown, what can go wrong?
Shoot until his brains gone, make his son watch
Popping different color Xannies, how I bar hop
Guess I’m getting close to granny’s, hear them gun shots?
When they begging for their life, it take the fun out

[Bridge]
Ohh, they mad, they mad
Tryna do what we do, but they know they can’t (Slicky)
Ohh, stay mad, stay mad
Forever with the gang and it’s grey that we chant

[Verse 2]
59 on my back, like I’m Jack Ham
Sixteen was selling dope up out the Trans Am
Now I’m laughing to the bank and swerving black rams
Got my daddy tripping, saying “I be god damn”
Top down, I be cooking till the pot burn
Choppa clip like my b!tch, they both got curves
Swear these boys ain’t got my much, but they got nerve
Lemme find the right word, uhh
I’m that motherfu*king one, yeah, go dumb, yeah
Put a blade up in his lungs, yeah, you come near
We can scrap without them guns, yeah, it’s fun, yeah
Turn a opp into my son, yeah, some crumbs, here
Know you hurting for them funds, yeah, a bum, yeah
Quarterbacking in your armchair, with crossed legs
Give a fu*k bout what the law said, they all dead
B!tch im motherfu*king north bred, a hard head, Slick

[Outro]
Woah-woah, woah-woah, woah-woah
Ohh, they mad, they mad, hah
Yeah, they mad, they mad
Ohh, they mad, they mad, hah
Yeah, they mad, they mad