hood Ted Bundy

Lyrics

(Verse 1)
Ignition turns, the cylinder burns, the friction returns to the Pacific Northwest
Cold fog rolling off the Puget Sound, heavy chest, dynamic pressure under the vest
I’m a phantom in a vintage sedan, blacked-out glass, twin-turbo manifold breathing
Navigating through the pine trees, damp asphalt, red tail lights slowly receding
Got a methodical mind, psychological design, chronological spine of a villain
Operating in the low light, quiet on the turnpike, zero ambition for chilling
Stereo thumping a sub-bass frequency, 308 hertz rattling through the frame
Double-life persona, hyper-calculated, never drop a real name in the game
Step out the vehicle, leather on the palm, silent tread on the mossy terrain
Watching the mist settle over the canopy, washing out the chemical stain
Chopper rap delivery, velocity swift, lyrical drift like a car on the gravel
Every single second that passes away is another complex thread to unravel
No emotion in the optic lens, steady pulse, 45 beats to the minute
If it’s dark storytelling you requested from the depths, then step right in it
Map spread out on the dashboard, coordinates pinned, compass point set to the north
Out of the shadows, into the timber, the midnight predator emerges and steps forth
Twisted mind frame, switching lanes in the pouring rain, driving insane with no strain
Every single syllable I drop upon the track is guaranteed to leave an indelible stain
Glock on the console, map on the floor, heavy iron on the passenger door
Living in the shadows of the evergreen trees where the ocean meets the rocky shore.
​(Chorus)
Blacked-out chassis rolling through the rain
Calculated mind running deep in the lane
No face, no trace, just a ghost on the grid
Nobody knows all the crazy things I did
Shadows in the timber, static on the wire
Dark horrorcore flowing through the live wire
Blacked-out chassis rolling through the rain
Calculated mind running deep in the lane!
​(Verse 2)
Shift to four-wheel drive, mud on the mudflaps, crawling up the logging trail slope
Tension so thick in the mountain air you couldn’t cut through the haze with a rope
Got a lockbox tucked under the floorboards, customized gear, high-grade steel
Everything organized, strictly compartmentalized, nothing about the operation is real
Smooth operator, smooth talker, slick walker, masquerading in the bright daylight
Then the sun drops down behind the Olympic peaks and the beast wakes up for the night
I flow with the precision of a surgeon, rhyme schemes locked in a tight grid pattern
Cold-blooded cadence spinning out of control like the rings circling around Saturn
Multi-syllabic, problematic, automatically static, dramatic tone in the vocal
Locally known as a quiet entrepreneur, globally act like a ghost to the locals
Look into the rearview, empty highway, rain dripping off the edge of the rim
Every single shadow in the forest looks twisted, every single streetlight dim
I’m the architect of the underground dark, crafting tales of the macabre and the grim
G-funk synth line whining in the background, bassline heavy, underwater swim
Deep-water aquatic, psychotic, sporadic, the flow is hypnotic, neuro-traumatic
Operating out of an invisible base with a tactical mind that is strictly automatic
Pacing the perimeter, measuring parameters, monitoring every single millimeter
Leaving no residual, criminal individual, dark side colder than a winter thermistor
Tucked in the back of the bay in the dark where the fog hangs heavy on the Puget tide
Waiting for the quiet of the midnight hour where the wolves and the phantoms hide.
​(Chorus)
Blacked-out chassis rolling through the rain
Calculated mind running deep in the lane
No face, no trace, just a ghost on the grid
Nobody knows all the crazy things I did
Shadows in the timber, static on the wire
Dark horrorcore flowing through the live wire
Blacked-out chassis rolling through the rain
Calculated mind running deep in the lane!
​(Verse 3)
Listen to the click-clack cadence of the tongue when the tempo speeds up to a hundred and ten
Picking up the pen, dropping in the den, writing out the dark-side chapter again
Fast paced, double-time, line by line, hyper-refined, never lag behind on the track
Spitting that 90s underground West Coast heat with a pitch-black shadow on my back
Tuned up suspension, heavy-duty springs, navigating through the sharp switchbacks
Leaving no digital footprint behind, paying off the debt with cash in the sacks
Prowling through the valley where the fog hangs low, engine idling, exhaust note deep
Watching all the lights in the sleepy coastal town go out while the citizens sleep
I’m the phantom driver, night traveler, slick unraveler, narrative weaver of dread
Operating strictly in the space between the living world and the thoughts in your head
Got the blueprint mastered, double life seamless, walking through the crowd unseen
A dark antihero persona operating deep inside the hip-hop machine
Under the radar, over the limit, supreme precision.