Here I come, better run I gotta sawed off shotgun Pump that buck and you might catch a hot one Call me a head hunter, head's I've chopped off Cemetary's full from the bodies I dropped off Mothafuckaz hate me, cuz I'm singing Blasphemy Die and go to hell and when you get there ask for me Come along for the ride, drive you to suicide I'm the Unholy Esham, that's right Get me a razor blade and I might jack a spade Or jack jack my dick to a poor porno flick Nasty motherfucker with the wicked mentallity Thirteen ways is a small technicallity Cuz I got one, blow your fuckin head out Pull your fuckin eyes out, just to get the red out If you be a nigga or a white boy honkey I get funky, hip hop junkie Serial killa, frosted flakes Fucked up in the head waking up with the shakes Those are the breaks, fuckin up the fakes Some shit I make you cant take But dont blame me. (CHORUS) Dont blame me Dont blame me Dont blame me Dont blame me, the devil made me do it. Better reach your children, cuz I might burn em' Teach em' and learn em' a motherfuckin lesson Get my Smith & Wesson and blow your baby's head off From watchin bullshit, turn the T.V. set off Psycho, and I might go like Michael Say some shit that you might not like so Who's that god that you praise the lord to Buyin that ticket to the heavens, cant afford to Esham's back with the New Jack Swing I dont pray or none or those things Now we got niggaz that's rappin bout god ya'll Praise the lord to me the black oddball I aint no joke and my words aint fiction If you think so you can suck my dick then I dont like preachers, or prayers, but playaz Esham the Unholy wicked rhyme sayer Swing with the Slayer, sing if you dare But just like before I dont care And dont blame me. (CHORUS) Dont blame me (we are searchers of the truth) Dont blame me (we are searchers of the truth) Dont blame me (we are searchers of the truth) Dont blame me, the devil made me do it. Sick in the head, knotty like a dread Pump that lead cuz I'd rather be dead Gimme what you got if you hip you get with me I think my wrist is talking to you tellin you to slit me Suicidalist and I'm unorthadox Down with the black sox, whiskey on the rocks You might catch me in a jail cell with a wig I slaughtered me a pig, but you cant dig The voices in my head, tellin me to waste ya Pig that Bacon ham sandwich I can taste ya Everybody lookin for a bible to touch We shall overcome is a bit too much But you cant touch this Religion is some hokus-pokus Betcha seein god when you focus But when the day comes and you gotta run for shelter Now you screamin Hellterskellter Damn, you gotta turn off the T.V. Or dont blame me. (CHORUS) Dont blame me (dont start no shit now) Dont blame me (dont start no shit now) Dont blame me (dont start no shit now) Dont balme me, the devil made me do it.