i could make a earth shake, i’m your worst mistake,
between skinny dipping and camp crystal lake.
i feel like rob zombie, my thoughts are morbid,
like i slept in his house of a thousand corpses.
put on a page, could shatter a giant’s ribcage,
crush you and anyone that listen’s to rage,
a vision of rage, it’s like swimming with great whites.
slain mics, step up and feel the break tight.
i always like to show some decency,
but music always brings out the beast in me.
it’s an animalistic misfit, so why risk it?
cause this sh-t will leave a large imprint.
it’s an instant cl-ssic, if not then it’s close to it.
you disagree then you don’t know music.
most emcees that garble when it’s time to write,
they got nothing to say, like a deaf man with writers block.
it’s an animalistic so f–k what your friends think.
i work wonders with the pen’s ink.
so what’s a quote from your favourite artist?
if it aint dead celeb then it’s probably garbage.
long time coming, 15 years in the making,
it’s finally come, but my lungs are acheing.
watch how i make the beat bleed,
strangle the music ’till it can’t breathe.
on it’s whole, words are the life support.
without me the song dies. without me then it’s lifeless.
without me i’m just another f–king rapper with a crisis,
and a collection of songs about being rich.
life’s a big chain, it pushed you in the only which it ### thought containment.
we call it entertainment and you could love it or hate it.
you could turn it up, or turn it off, or just embrace it.
there’s just too many stakes to regard it, all of them.
and they are starving and they feed off of music.
walking zombies who choose to follow,
yeah some can spit, but most swallow.
i was always told that rabbit seized the moment.
that’s why i write with emotion.
sing ’til i spit blood, sing for the hopeless,
sing ’til my lungs give out, and my throat closes.
that’s just my ambition, to turn heads like a street magician.
david blaine stopped paying attention.
it’s the main attraction, the world premier.
dead celeb i thought i made it perfectly clear,
that i would not back down or stumble.
i just pace, back and forth, like a lion inside of a jungle.
this is my domain me and a mic go together,
like robert downey junior and cocaine.
i’m just an addict, i got a bad habit,
of making the best emcees seem below average.
i’m just savage. i’m more than you bargain for.
that’s why i hold the mic up into my arm and soar.
lyrics are swarming i’m more than a hurricane,
and when i’m on it i’m more than a great white shark.
when i’m storming i’m ###.
and i don’t like any of these rappers causing me boredom.
i kick a hole in the speaker once i’m done recording.
and my voice cuts sooner, cuts a chainsaw in texas.
i got a face and it’s fatal weapons.
watch me rip the flesh from the beat
skin it alive and hang a song from his feet.
cause inside i’m dark and dingy,
like donnie darko was trapped within me.
i’m starving like the streets of harlem.
and a quest that became with a ring like golem.
my precious, we need you, quick.
we need you like dead celebrity’s blood music.
and i’m a scriptling direct from h-ll.
i’m hungry like when cannabis first battled darnel.
i’ve come to rock down, you rock as my pumps.
i take this to new heights like suicide jumps.
you only live once, ### hunts.
and i get bl–dy, like it’s the time of the month, b-tch.
for those that can’t spell, it’s y-a-s,
the most dangerous letters in the alphabet.
cause facing me is like speaking english in thailand,
there’s really no point, like blindfolding a blind man.
dcs are the initials, for kids who got issues,
for kids who fight back like pitbulls.
you wanna battle? check my win column.
i got two middle fingers with your name written on them. what?!