Apathy - Block Island Sound [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1: Apathy]
Rock over the beat, rock over the drum
Better look out God, here the Devil come
Spit 'til your cerebellum is numb
Blow speakers with the force of an elephant gun
I'm Attila the Hun, I'm as ill as they come
9mm filler still a killer that stun
Like electrical voltage, grip deadly as Vulcans
From the depths of the dungeon the dragon's awoken
Run for water while your village is smoking
Bring any competitor and I bet they get broken
Laying on the ground with their head split open
A notion to plasma get blasted approaching
The master of roasting, you rappers are joking
You better have a cheat code, a magical potion
Tracks I'm composing get acid erosion
You acts like you're frozen
And fractured and broken
And cracked and corroding
You're wack, you're a rodent
Ap is like Oden and in fact I'm the omen
Motor-boating boobs while the pool's overflowing
Suckers overdosing your soul is left floating

[Verse 2: Locksmith]
With a handsome price
I'm the hands of Christ
I'm the smell of deceit that is Sampson's wife
I'm the serpent in the bush
With the sermon that was pushed
Bare-footed Jericho trying to dance the pipe
On the bright side of genocide
And gin aside, every sin side
See you with your henna side
I don't sympathize
To one of you sin aside
Put a synth in the sinner essentially in his pride
Pin clinching intention is intention
Incision any rapper you then mention
Innocent victims they been lynching
Fuck it, we all muppets this system is Jim Henson
A real hassle shit that they will ask you
Women that still bashful
Hit you and then pass you
Stay clear I catch you in cape fear
Max Cady under your jeep gripping under your wheel axle
Still maxing three bitches-Bill Paxton
Bill Capson put his ass in a steel capsule
Black suit but i'm still casual
Play Judas over your grave bitch i'm the real Satchmo
Is that so?
I've sort of been living my life as DiMaggio or Castro
I'd rather be dead than be put in a black hole
You lack flow, you ingest what's sold
There's more gas in your lungs than your chest can hold

[Verse 3 - Wild Card]
I’m here to vocalize and open wide, invoking my emotion like I’m [?]
Your throat is sliced and closing like a cobra strike
Immobilizin' poser types who lie and say they’re dope, they’re not
Put metal in they mouth like I’m trying to fix they overbite
I know I’m nice, the flows I write are so divine and no one's quite as dope as I am
Throwin' knives, I’m ghostly white and glow at night and cold as ice
With hoes are like your trophy wife who choke on pipe
And swallow all my children like the TV up in Poltergeist
I’m dope as spider foes that bite, you know the types that no one likes
I roll with types with motorbikes that dump your body oceanside
And overnight I soak my knife you know I’m not just flowing
I’m the plague motherfucker when I rap you see the locust fly
I pulverize 'em, trap ‘em in the witch's craft
And plus the mystic black handles that are drippin’ wax
My ex-girl got married, I ain't pissed or mad
Wonder if she told her new man she licked my ass
Anyway, I got problems and my issues are frightening
Spit vicious for a living and rhythm's enticing
Do I want a blowjob? These bitches are psychic
And they keep giving head like they're victims of ISIS
Wild Card