Artist: Demigodz
Album:  KILLmatic
Song:   Dead in the Middle
Typed by: kirenamloh@msn.com
 
("RUH!?" "Where are you?!")
"Dead in the middle of Little Italy little did we know..."
 
[Chorus]
"Dead in the middle of Little Italy little did we know
 that we riddled some middleman who didn't do diddily" <- Big Pun
 
[Ryu]
Dead in the middle, I'm as hot as a griddle
Went harder than grizzle, a martyr on the top of a missile
You want it? I got it to give it
Pop a clip in, then follow your fuckin mama 
grocery shopping and shot up her Honda Civic
The Demigodz been fired up Bin Laden with Dodger fitteds
I let the money talk, I don't holler at bitches
My competition is missin, maybe it doesn't exist
Like global warming I'm warnin these motherfuckers to listen
I'll bring a storm to your ci-tay, so I'm normally shit-tay
You be doing rain dances in the streets like Did-day
You ready to get retarded, lawless, raw bar
Hoppin in a bar, forget where you parked, you know the art is
Dead in the middle always sippin a forty
Riddle your whip with so many shots, you thought we were Soviets, homie
No, no, no, no, it's the Godz so get it right
No need to look around, you know right where to find me, aight?
Dead in the middle 
 
[Chorus]
 
[Celph Titled]
+It's the End of the World As We Know It+, so pop the cork
I got a Jansport filled with explosives (yeah)
Leave your corpse crispy down in Corpus Christi
My instruments hollow out pianos and, leave every organ empty (Haha!)
I got greasy with a groupie and I smacked her britches
The bitch worship my nuts, I guess she's sack-religious/sacrilegious
And that's what happens when your rap is vicious
Sadomachistic, snappin pictures of captured victims
And my dungeon won't feed you (no)
Leave you 'til you're just a carcass
Turn a major-label rapper back to a starving artist (Damn~!)
Who's the hardest, mother-FUCKER, yes I am!
My porky pound grenade'll hit you wherever this mic's land
I am my own hype man
So whoever's standin next to me has gotta be the goddamn Boogeyman!
I make the cookie blam, the biscuit could go off
The ratchet have a seizure, make it sneeze and blow your nose off 
B-B-B-BLAT~!
 
[Chorus]
 
[Apathy]
Fuck with me and the outcome could be
Disturbing, submergin scalpels in your flesh
Like a surgeon, emergin, after all the rest 
get burned in the furnace, verses will arise 
like a Phoenix, I'm Jesus, LOOK into my eyes
I'm the Savior mixed with Satan, no surprise
I'm American with mental terrorisms televised
I'm the angel, the Antichrist all-in-one
I'm a priest, I'm a thug, I'm a nun with a gun
I'm the Pope, the Colombian who imports dope
Police who pump coke that they stole from the broke
I'm the seventeen-year old rockin fake dookie ropes
I'm the one who think the 9/11 shit was a hoax
Got a Glock, rottweiler, and a pocket full of cash
If the world goes crazy when the stock market crash
I'm, dead in the middle of a Ritalin binge
Dead in the middle of a bed with identical twins
Yes I'm, dead in the middle
 
[Chorus]