DESPERADO IN COLORADO by L. Coleman

Violence makes the world go round

So what, I’m almost thirty two 
Career? I’ve got no fucking clue 
Shit, all that I know is
I’ve got no misdemeanors and no kids 
No felonies, none to show yet
My death is a moment I know when
‘Cause I never uh wanted to die old
If it means skydiving or 5-0
Going out with a bang is something I know
I accomplished all of, my goals
By the time I hit 25 so
I live fast so I don’t die slow
Desperado in Colorado
Cult imagery, that’s my John Doe
That’s excused with my apostles
My wallets like I won the lotto
Condomless with nymphs and models
I got bread and Asiago 
I go Hidalgo with these cavalos
And Donald don’t got no more SWAT
No more secret service to coddle
And I just adopted a Roscoe
And it’s awfully eager to pop so
Now I’m mentally ill and I’m hostile
But I don’t believe in deceiving, no
Kill the rich to feed the poor
A pleasure to meet you this evening, girl
Bad for good will free the world

She asked me what I want to be when I grow up
I told her just a simple criminal to love

I can poke them
To feel the blood leak
Or I can choke them
To feel the life leave
I can noose them
To feel when the dance stops
Or I can shoot them
To hear when the shell drops
Zig zag and run
But I’m grabbing ya
And I’m stabbing ya
Now I’m having fun
Fully aware of the cameras 
And what happens when I avada kedavra ya

She asked me what I want to be when I grow up
I told her just a simple criminal to love

Violence makes the world go round

She asked me what I want to be when I grow up
I told her just a simple criminal to love

Am I good or evil to follow?!
Or just a desperado in Colorado?

Desperado In Colorado

Devil Or An Angel?

The first time I killed somebody
Spilled somebody
Filmed the bloody
Scene
It repeated in my dreams
So like now I hear them scream
"Help me! Someone help me!"
They keep yelping
But on Elm Street
Scapel, butcher cleavers and my knives are what they felt, see?
Google Pixel cell rings
Right before I nail me
Another victim, stick them with a different, switch stuck in her jelly… belly, yeah…uh
I'm a perfect Machiavelli
They don’t need to even tell me
Yep, it pleases me to see my private work up on the Tele
And inside the lake dwelling
Or behind the fucking deli
I'm compelled to put the bodies, so I beg "Stop yelling!"
I don't want to go to jail, see?
Murder is such a swell thing
Better than being wealthy
You should see if for yourself, reach
Grab what's on the shelf, these
Weapons threaten the healthy
I’ll confess this to my male priest 
And then to my female shrink
I’ve taken out like twelve police
And honestly, I’m self pleased

I’m sitting on your shoulder
Believe that I’m real
Devil or an angel?
You can choose what you want
I’m sitting on your shoulder
Believe that I’m real
Devil or an angel?
You can do what you want to

Strangle chord up and torment
Hydrochloric I'm pouring
While a coroner storms in
For the corpse on my porch and
My endorphins are forming
When he's torn up and gory
It's enjoyably normal
As recording an orgy
This appointment to point him
With my sword in his orifice
Now I burn his jurisdiction and his precinct’s enforcement
And the ghost gun’s in the ocean I know that’s sort of important
Just like storing his organs under the boards of my floor and
Off the informant straight forward to the morgue with
The ‪10 o'clock‬ story so damn horrid, it's morbid
Kind of like I’m Jason Vorhees
City Sheriff, share this warning
I’m a Dorner that’s reborn as I dump him in the forest, for his
Sake I wipe his Jordans and his blood stained Porsche’s door hinge
My appetite to kill, god dang it is enormous
I’ve got Kyle Rittenhouse within my aim for rigor mortis
Along with the judge and jury, I’m as crooked as the court is

I’m sitting on your shoulder
Believe that I’m real
Devil or an angel?
You can choose what you want
I’m sitting on your shoulder
Believe that I’m real
Devil or an angel?
You can do what you want to

Devil Or An Angel?

The Rally

Uncensored Vulgarity

Blah, blah, blah, blah, drugs
Blah, blah, blah, blah, kill a slut
Pill, F-fuck Trump
Son of a bitch
What? What? Corrupt!
Filthy mouth, can't grow up
Too immature for you
Ghost gun soldier
All you pussy boys, load up
My 45 for 45, will click-clack to show you
Kind of like concussions when you slip into a coma, yeah
I’m known to roll up 
on all of you fruit roll ups
Vicodins are vitamins 
inside my Coca-Cola
I’m batting for your bitch
You should call me, Sammy Sosa
I can smell a weed aroma at the festival corner, uh
This is California 
And I like when I record her
She’s a foreign adult performer 
With no ink
I like them vulgar
This visceral viciousness in this voice
It’s like a viola
Got this swagger off the deep web 
for some bitcoin, watch me blow up
Pig, go get your doughnut
While I slip this bitch some doja
I’m an emotional roller coaster 
When I’m cheated on with no closure
Posted with Colts unholstered
Against the 5-0 holding toasters
I’m taking over, uh

Uncensored Vulgarity

Mrs. Vicky Watson (prod. by Cult Imagery)

They say all I do is rap about drugs... well here's a song, it's a song about love...

In this pill bottle of mine
All I want is five
Five to get high, I'm
Swallowing nine, why?
'Cause the clock tics past "gobble up" time, right?
Mrs. Vicky Watson is a model of mine, I
Show her like a trophy she's a problem inside, I
Love her oh so much, my heart is throbbing just like, my
Arterial Palpation
As slow as a dang patient's inhalation
Temple pacing
Pill duration
The pain killer is stationed in my hypothalamus
She whispers "Baby, swallow us"
And I beg don't leave me
Or I get so queazy
Really dizzy with nausea
So my lady, ain't it obvious
That I fantasize about you?
Tell me why I don't know how to
Get you out my head, instead I kindly refill you
I used to publicly love you, now I quietly still do
I give a fuck if fuckers wonder why the fuck I lust and hunger
You're my lover, you're my dove, another one to just slumber

Mrs. Vicky Watson I'm so fond of, it's possible
I'm addicted, I've lost it, I've lost it, I've lost it
Ain't no doubt you're my problem, glad I've found you, it's awesome
You're my flower, my blossom, my blossom, my blossom
I, love, you, I want you, want you, want you as often as possible, oh girl
I, love, you, I want you, want you, want you as often as possible, oh girl
 
Goddamn I bet
You're damn perplexed
Mystery, how Lance had met
Somebody so fabulous
Here, let me make you understand I guess
It was after his
Motorcycle accident
Cracked a rib
Back had went
Snap again
So he talked to the doctor when
Watson, she walked up and
Just said with such manners, "To meet was sure nice"
He couldn't believe, he couldn't fathom, it was love at first sight
She was such a nerve high
But he just wasn't sure why
He felt that way
The help could wait
'Cause she would always elevate
His mood by saying, "Hello, hey!
I can tell that they
Just seem a bit jealous, babe
So won't you go tell them they
Are out their fucking minds, I will never repel away
I said I'll stay
So let them hate"
It's evident
They're intruding
What he do to his noodle
Full of brutal pharmaceuticals
He knew that she was beautiful
But please don't act like you would know
A love so super duper, she's so soothing and ooh, it goes

(Chorus)

There has been a handful of women caught up in my spider-webs
I never planned to stick with them, I just tried them like a dress
Take one off and then try the next
But this one in my eye impressed
Who would become my diet? Yes
Mrs. Vicky Vicodin
Heineken, I would try her with
Hike up a flight of steps
Hide a bit
I don't mind if she finds me, grips
On my mind when I try to quit
She's my fire desire, fix
Me a pile of her, I'm a get
So, so high that I might just trip
Over the sofa and throw up my pint of spit
I will open up wide and slip
Her and throw in like five or six
Girl, I hope I survive this shit
Overdose and I might get sick
Hydrocodone's my type of chick
I indulge and I'd like to wish
To grow old and retire with
Her, I know as I bite the tip
I will doze and unwind a bit
At my home it is silent, which
Shall provoke eight or nine to split
No one knows of my private biz
Let me show you the light of it
Small, oblong, and it's white, I grin
All along it is why I sin
Swallow palms of Miss Vicodin

(Chorus)

Mrs Vicky Watson

The Anarchist Mosh Pit (prod. by Mark Moroni)

This is the anarchist moshpit where you mash out

Grab Ivanka by the meow 
since you can do that now *now*
Want to fight me 'cause I'm skinny? Meat head, you back down 
Little hoes think they can follow just to cash out *nah*
But I only target dimes when I shoot at gals 
In this flight with magic mushrooms, yeah- chew caps down
Introducing another banger baby boom clap pow
You don't want to mess with this aluminum bat out
From a yacht to the top of a Vegas roof that's wild
Met models so basics make me puke that's foul
Where's my happy ending, where's my masseuse at now?
Dressed just like a prep from the Bay to Sac town
Seeing sirens in my mirror but I tune that out 
Whether a black or white president, screw that clown
'Cause I've been off the hinges since my youth and now
There's a "Fuck you" in my pocket, watch me pull that out
With a crew of us deep, catch our group clash out *ooh*
And Rhonda Rousey that ass in an afternoon nap now
Its apparent I'm living like a boot camp child
With your high school sweetheart bumping all my new track sounds
Until I get her in my cabin like "Baby, you dance now"
Got her red top off and her blue pants down
So when my load pops off I see you mad, how?
This year I'll probably die for the truth that's mouthed
With the tombstone text "I'm in Jesús hands now"
Resurrect on the third day, watch you view that "Wow"
Damn right Vlad Putin, get your tooth smacked out
I'm invincible in this bitch, I thought you knew that now
So better think it through twice before you do lash out
Or be duct taped in the trunk, tied where you can't shout
On the milk box "Missing" from your school and house
Looks like your family lawyer got me to sue at now
So bring the women, bring the music, bring the booze and loud

I've got some queens in limousines cuz
They're dancing like some ballerinas 
Brushing off these misdemeanors 
All these diamonds on my fingers

The Anarchist Mosh Pit

This is cashmere
Get that ass smeared
Yeah
Yeah
Get that ass smeared
Get that ass smeared
Yeah
Yeah
Get that ass smeared

My ex girlfriend was more than just a cam girl 
So if I don't hit the first night, you better scram girl 
I'm scandalous in my brand new Land Ro-ver 
Pull over stop for the caravan to throw up
Lots of Absinthe and all the canned sodas
Tires screeching up damned doughnuts
And the fact that no one can dismantle us
Because of clips for when I load the ammo up
I'm a "No Rules" rally 
Rolling through your alley 
Not from the hood but I rep the Valley
Silicon chips on chips and Audis
Dropped bombs on Earth in rocket ships
I'm outtie
Fuck Trump I'm shouting
On his Twit-ter pouting
You can't sweat the opiate of pills up out me
as I'm in court drowsy
or the drug store browsing 
Watch me on your couch seat
I get row-dy
Yeah, you wish were me
Porn star autographs, but miserably
Is you hating each and every picture of me
You're in Facebook dream living fictionally
It is just my birthday, there's no trick up my sleeve
Evidently I'm sipping this syrup and lean
Zero time for the cautious that tear up and weap
Then walk around wearing panties
every time they queef
You know I move mountains every time I speak
Half bottle in Cabo with models, VIP
Gosh, ho
I'm hollow when you swallow my T-I-P
So follow won't you follow all the tweets I tweet

Stalked by undercovers
Blocked by my lovers
Fell asleep at the wheel and I crashed into a bumper 
Yeah 
I crashed into a bumper 
Took her from the bar and I smashed her in my dungeon 

Stalked by undercovers
Blocked by my lovers
Fell asleep at the wheel and I crashed into a bumper 
Yeah 
I crashed into a bumper 
Took her from the bar and I smashed her in my dungeon 

This is cashmere
Get that ass smeared
Yeah
Yeah
Get that ass smeared
Get that ass smeared
Yeah
Yeah
Get that ass smeared

Cashmere

Play This At My Funeral

by L. Coleman

©℗

Mom and Dad
I love you
And I’m sorry for starting trouble 

Won’t you leave the casket open 
I don’t want your heart broken
All my friends are overdosing
So I ride with this strap loaded
Just in case I get my throat slit
Play this at my funeral, yeah
Play this at my funeral, yeah

Kid Buu
Lil Zane
And Lil Xan’s the same
One hit wonders burning up in flames
When I stick you with these lyrics
Hey
I don't miss a vein
Sweet as sniffing this cocaine
So hit a lick with me
Absinthe swigs with the whiskey to my liver, eh!
If I got you humming hooks 
Just as loud as lit grenades
big brigades
in a rage
Mobbin' through the pepper spray
Escalade
Jetting straight 
Through the pigs barricade
Do you feel the feel the Molly kissing your face?
I’ve been a pervert since my porn shooting college days
Dating model babes
So let the cameras aim
I’ll die a tragic way
But shout out to my babe
Letting me raw bang her in my car today
She’s such a darling thing in a gnarly way 
So when I Rest In Peace, I don’t want no sorrow, ‘kay?
Til then, treat me like that dildo in your Hermès bag, haha

Picture my life in slow motion
I always lived for the moment 
Only ever wanted to expose this
What they do in the shadows is sick
So in case I get my throat slit
Play this at my funeral, yeah 
Play this at my funeral, yeah

Mom and Dad
I love you
And I’m sorry for starting trouble

Play This At My Funeral

Empty Space

by L. Coleman
©℗

Stab me, break me, killing my pain 
Take life from my lungs 
I don’t think I’ll bother staying 
Escape for some love 

Feel as if we cannot relate to the world
We want love and no pain
Feel as if we cannot relate to the world
We want love and no pain

Stab me, break me, killing my pain 
Take life from my lungs 
I don’t think I’ll bother staying 
Escape for some love 

All my nights 
I’m searching
I’m searching 
for signs
one sign like
Empty space 
Got this void
so blank inside 
Perhaps when I find my wife
Or perhaps when I die 
Maybe she’s in my next time
I’ll try to enjoy this ride

All my nights 
I’m searching
I’m searching 
for signs
one sign like
Empty space 
Got this void
so blank inside 
Perhaps when I find my wife
Or perhaps when I die 
Maybe she’s in my next time
I’ll try to enjoy this ride

Stab me, break me, killing my pain 
Take life from my lungs 
I don’t think I’ll bother staying 
Escape for some love 

Feel as if we cannot relate to the world
We want *love* and no pain
Feel as if we cannot relate to the world
We want *love* and no pain

You’ve got to die to live
You’ve got to die to live 
You’ve got to die to live 
You’ve got to die to live 

All my nights 
I’m searching
I’m searching 
for signs
one sign like
Empty space 
Got this void
so blank inside 
Perhaps when I find my wife
Or perhaps when I die 
Maybe she’s in my next time
I’ll try to enjoy this ride

Empty Space

Like I Bleed

by L. Coleman 

©℗

Here’s a secret that I usually tell no one
All these thoughts are much sicker than pneumonia 
Authority’s obsolete 
I believe in anarchy
‘Cause everybody bleeds
Like I bleed

I was just a boy 
from dear Tijuana 
‘til I jumped the border
to cut a Trump supporter
Cha-os is order
Got to play “reporter”?
Bubonic Plague 
Egghead that waves
Some butcher blades, throws shade
Catch phrases, repetition, bass
Sounds like poetry’s current state, ay
Scumbags at my place
As if I won’t shoot to maim
Kneecap shatters like bang
Oink, oink, motherfucker, stained
I’m not tame, ay
Put me on the plane
Put me on a jet to Spain
Babes try to put my pockets on flames
But “game”
hangs with a camera as paint
Big dick 
Big middle finger and chain
Ready to engage 
when I aim
Probably insane 
Maybe my brain is fucked up from pain
and chemtrails running through ‘em, man
Uh
Bitch
shit you ain’t
Better situate
I’m about to be all the shit you hate
Space invaders in my head these days
But I still own every fucking word I say
Put it on tape
Uh
Fuck it
Run up on me

Yeeeah!

Here’s a secret that I usually tell no one
All these thoughts are much sicker than pneumonia 
Authority’s obsolete 
I believe in anarchy
‘Cause everybody bleeds
Like I bleed

I need sex to distress 
But these good girls with their fake morals keep me dressed in V-necks
I’m fed up, disrespect 
Like bleep that and bleep this
She reaches for the Kleenex 
I’m sorry that my reflex
Is sticking to these senoritas
Girl, I don’t really need this
But she thinks she teases
I’m a genius with these Ninas
And breaking speed limits to release these demons
Windows down, shout fuck police in these breezes
I do this in my leisure

if I know I can’t whoop you, I’ma stab you

Here’s a secret that I usually tell no one
All these thoughts are much sicker than pneumonia 
Authority’s obsolete 
I believe in anarchy
‘Cause everybody bleeds
Like I bleed

Pile in the street, turn the mosh pit on
Nearly stomped by some pigs in a thousand mob
But God said that I’m not allowed to die
Unless it’s homicide 
By the FBI
Got an “S” on my chest when I bless the mic
Rocking Hugo Boss when I’m dressed to snipe
Never wearing rubbers when I’m fresh inside
Been had a vendetta since that arrest of mine
So in essence I’m a Smith N Wesson rhyming
Sparking paradigms with my message siren
Try me and it ends on this second, I win
Bites like Tyson and Mcgregor fighting 
full tour buses all left or right and
now his career’s irrelevant, he’s whining 
Like that Uncle Tom-ye West invited
To kick it with a bad hombre dividing America, cutting checks in silence
Flexing diamonds 
on my necklace shining 
Reckless driving 
with the Lexus I’m in
Lil Xan snorting latex, that’s right, man
Yhandi
gobbles 
tide pods with 
pesticides in 
his breakfast Dine-In
Next to Kimye West, get sniped and
I don’t give a fuck 
if you’re blessed, I’m violent
Yes, indictments 
Charges?
Yeah
You better press them right in 
I guess that I’ve been 
invested in violence 
Steady grinding, I’m an infectious titan
I confess I’m obsessed with her breasts it’s my sin
Chests are my weakness, I’m finding
Sex supplying 
every les’ I slide in
“Fuck cops” is the expression, riot

Like I Bleed

The Flood

by L. Coleman 

©℗

Man, if I were GOD I want the Flood 
And, if I were GOD I’d right the world 
And, if I were GOD, I’d make sure
I’d drown you 
Then start new

Let the black clouds roll in 
I’ll give you The Flood

Sucking on boobs galore
As my Rueger blows
You know that it’s true so
I’m doing the usual
Rolling with crews and dope
Screws loose and oh
The VEVO videos are coming so soon ya know 
My dogs kill like Cujo
Homie poked for that boof O
Some unos
Fuck them goons though
I’m a wolf to these poodles
Don’t question if I’ll pull those
tools, I don’t shoot slow
Uzi chrome through your
body, where my kudos?
I’m with your girl when she’s creeping in my room, bro
Strength of a sumo
Wrestler, uh 
Fuck it, if I stoop low
Two phones
Two phones
One for the plug
And one for my new ho
Judo chopping Zeus bolts
Drunk off pruno
Fist fighting gets my groove on
Pussy boy, move on
You don’t want my pistol on
I’m like a bullhorn
Shooter like I’m Odom
Motorboat your daughter
When I’m thirsty, I need water
huh, yuh
Flew to Barcelona for the lover that I ordered
Drug trafficking back and forth across the border
Criminal mindset, living how I wanna
Death before dishonor
Unlawful since the day that I came out my mama
Dahmer signatures every time I go slaughter 
Wine by the bottle
Chug-ging my rum
I don’t give a fuck
Might write me a novel
Slice with a lawnmower
right across your grill
Like “Um, hi there, hot ho
Do you want to take a little drive to Tahoe?
It would be nice to have my pipe blown”
Never was a fan of the badge, don’t like ‘em
I’ve seen my end and it’s sad when I’m gone...
So I keep this handgun
Strapped, under pillow
When I need to blast some
Speaking this passion
Demon in fashion
Heaters in pants, run
I’m eager to flash ‘em 
This is the intro to my sequel, so fasten
your seatbelt, don’t answer
I won’t romance ‘em
But if she’s a porn star
I just might throw cash on
Smoking zigzags, son 
I’m woke and this planet
is broken, it’s cancer 
*broken, it’s cancer*
At Coachella 
during global disaster

Man, if I were GOD I want the Flood 
And, if I were GOD I’d right the world 
And, if I were GOD, I’d make sure
I’d drown you 
Then start new

Let the black clouds roll in 
I’ll give you The Flood

The Flood

Both the Lamb and the Wrath. CULT IMAGERY is an eternal force for good by any means. He represents truth. He represents resistance. California based. Internationally driven.

CULT IMAGERY

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