*Theatre of Creeps by Circle Of Tyrants blares in the arena*
Circle Of Tyrants,
Circle Of Tyrants,
Attack you like the "Dawn Of The Dead".
Killa-mo 187 is walking out with a dumpster full of weapons and has on a strap around his shoulder a 10 inch Blade and is wearing a long black leather trenchcoat.
I send you all to Satan, send you to the Devil decapitated,
Splattered, degraded, rather amazing manners of hatred manifestation,
The cannibal data-related to random standards of ********' faggots stabbed in they faces,
Buckets of acid, hitchike with truckers in traffic,
I'm stuck on a path where the outcome is nothing but tragic,
My outer appearance is nothing but average,
Inside of my brain structure, the primary function is madness,
Torture these chambers, puttin' blow torches to faces,
Corpses in my basement, torsos are my favorite,
Autopsy's invigerating, killing you is refreshing and liberating,
Playing with the dead is extensively tittelating,
Humans are extremely expensive but really tasty,
Sell you on the black market in pieces to anybody who pays me,
Limited quantity, culinary sodomy,
Unique cuisine, delicacy, the ultimate in quality.
OUR NEXT ENTRANT
FROM PARTS UNKNOWN. WEIGHING IN AT 260 POUNDS. HE IS THE 2010 DEADLY JAPAN DEATHMATCH GRAND PRIX WINNER... REPERSENTIN' BORN 2 DIE...KILLA-MO 187!
The Prince of evil erupts, cut you cunts into c**t lips,
You ********' f*****t punks, a bunch of sluts that'll suck d**k,
We bust clips at cops and trust kids with glocks,
We'll thrust in the ox, the puss drips and drops,
Rockin' bloody bone chains and veins, my coat's strange,
Known to indulge in pain, cracked skulls expose brains,
My God's forsaken me, there's carcass cookin' in my bakery,
Scrapin' off your skin and string it up my wall as drapery,
Dramatically battering you and vatically splattering you,
Sporadically ravaging like a scavenger do,
Sharpened claws ripped and tore your s**t,
You're dead and sure to twitch, b***h,
Your blood and piss is pourin' out of every orifice,
Corpse grizzly and grim, I use my scissors to trim,
The blue ghost from the host, as I efficiently skin,
Spin the record around, I chop your ventricles down,
You see my tentacles found you, now you enter the ground.
]
Killa-mo starts throwing weapons galore into the ring for therest of the wrestlers Weapons including: Baseball bats, staple guns, iron crowbars, Bundles of Barbwire, and Slides 2 tables and a sheet of glass into the ring but does not enter the ring. Killa-mo grabs a chair and sits down at ringside.
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