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lirik lagu still alive – psyko

[verse one]
charles h-llag-y engaged in the greatest mistake his life ever faced when he hollered my name
you wanna be an enemy of me? b-tch please this elementary, you irrelevant to me
i’m about to school this tool, turn this fool cool for a minute, then p-ss in his grave when i’m finished
this isn’t even a fair fight, your career has already died, i’m your spare life
you coming off as static, omitting my comments off ya status
alerting your six fans ’i’ma hand this man a body bag’
then scr-p in back of lexi g like “please protect me” b-tch you the god of trash
you fail to tell ya peeps ya new release is coming out the closet
literally f-ggot that’s where you spit your bars in
if you were barking for ten minutes i wouldn’t even blink
your tracks ain’t even mastered…i can barely hear the beat
is that the f-cking track or hillary clinton trynna queef?
all you got on me, is funeral expenses, see this grave that i’m digging?
that’s for you, complimentary, rot in p-ss b-tch!
i got the only hoe in my phone sucking my d-ck and paying my rent, she go by the name of amber jones
sound familiar bro? well she a freaky hoe
i’m raping your -ss, braising it bad, leaving a rash, daddy gonna be mad that he gotta clean the c-m outta that
this ain’t even a rap no more, i’m bored, i feel like i’m waiting for the cowboys to score
i stole this beat from youtube just like you dude. this ain’t a f-cking brawl
like d-mn, dawg you look big and f-cking strong when you got on lexi’s bra
you probably try to squeeze in her panties too, but ya fat-ss only fits her thongs
charles, i slave as a rap artist, your bars are garbage, i’m heartless and i’m not even on sh-t
you’re a f-cking joke and i hope you overdose on c-ke…bro!
you say i sound like a g-y p-rn ad? thanks, lad, now i know what you do when it ain’t rap
god, please pray for this poor f-g…can i get a g-y men?
yo i swear to god
my mind is racin, i’m like jason, vorhees, boy please
don’t you ever try to f-ck with me then run from me
cause i’m gonna be, running right in back of your -ss with the machete ready to slice your spine in half, wait but how the f-ck do i do that? you don’t even have a half spine, alright, fine, nevermind, i’ll just find ya mother, f-ck her, tie up the sl-t, eat her p-ssy for supper, bust a nut in her c-nt, then tell her i love her right before i blow her brains all over the c-m on the covers. yeah, that’s why they call me a pyscho motherf-cker ! i’m like michael myers undercover. you never know what i’ll do to you so many screws in my head that are loose. h-ll i don’t even know if i know my next move to tell you the truth. i wrap my veins in cellophane, slit my wrists, get the blood that drips, use it to lube up my d-ck and jack off to a pic of mother when she was 6. telling me to save my talking for the rapping? b-tch i’m savage my vocab isn’t limited by some invisible cap, kid. i’m captain of this rap ship, truth of the matter is it don’t matter who throws the first diss that’s like ya daddy asking whose the first sibling to get they -ss whipped. the pain ain’t gonna change the sh-t’s gonna hurt the same, or maybe even worse sh-t who i am to say. i hope you don’t call that whack body bag rap an attack, f-g that was sad
telling me i don’t gotta a fashion sense? why cause i’m not some f-ggot b-tch with a toy gun tucked in my d-ck, and a few cz’s on my neck and wrist? ya better off popping ya b-lls off cheddar bob
lexi, said we’d never collab? we crashed at the same pad in the same sack, what the f-ck you call that, jack?
charles says he might fight me, he don’t got the money for a nice mic, but he gotta couple of dimes for a flight right? ya priorities are outta line, no wonder ya can’t f-cking rhyme
see it’s so easy for me to pray on the weak, it’s like jabbing a fork in the beef and chomping it between my teeth
you’re getting k!lled in this rivalry, ya still in the minor leagues. ya rhymes are weak and’ll never be on fleek
or threatening to anybody in possessining of a pen with ink, i’m a man of sin, and a menace in every way
here i’ll go a whole line without rhyming, just so you can feel better about yourself and stop whining, godd-mn it dawg i’m trying
back to the freestyle and being mean and violent, i don’t mean to start a riot in green goose, a city small enough to fit into
ut stadium 3 times and still have room. f-ck ya country roots, what ya gonna do? get ya gun and shoot? it’s loaded with pellets and only has 2 to use. oh, but i’m in a body bag….so you who you gonna call? ghostbusters motherf-cker! slaughtering me gotta be about as likely as lightning striking me down while the sun’s out. when it comes down to it you knew it was stupid do this. i’m sick of people calling me an eminem wannabe like he’s the only one to be white with a mic. i’ll battle any rapper in this industry, i didn’t get into to rap to back down from any emcee. but please charles, never again roll a joint of hemp and then attempt to vent against me. i think you f-cking lost it, there’s nothing in ya noggin, half that song you was talking b-tch, then it sounded like you got exhausted and called it quits….you call that a diss? only thing you dissed is rap, you piece of sh-t, suck my f-cking d-ck. i could literally forfeit and still win…you’re a waste of life and i pray you die, f-cking hang you by, your own corded mic. asking me are you the source of pain and the one making me go insane? sounding like you’re going into labor, you that b-tch calling the cops on the neighbors, cause you can’t sleep when you hit a g of weed. you the jack-ss after that fast cash
lying -ss claiming you grinding in rap, when really you never made a pretty penny from anything you been spitting. anyone even iggy could simply pin you in under a 16. it’s been a couple of weeks, ya plays are struggling to f-cking reach digits of 3. b-tch please, this clock isn’t ticking against me, essentially i could respond to you in a century ya probably still won’t even see 1,000 hits on that diss you did on me. you wack f-ck your raps suck, you wanna come at me, you gonna need a couple of armies to even harm me. but who am i to speak see to me these bars are mediocre, i feel like eating some yogurt and starting over. keep dissing me though, you might be getting closer to putting an end to me bro. yeah, like that’ll ever happen, i heard your f-cking track and… started laughing, at you in your casket, cluelessly gasping and grasping, for air, you’re a has been, who has been aware, you’re a past tense, who hasn’t…got a pair in his underwear, you look like you wake up in the morning and don’t know what to wear. you the queer peering in the mirror. you better fear these beats when you hear me speak, cause rap is the only place rape is legal. my lines are lethal but i don’t gotta tell these people, i put you in a body bag, they already know there won’t be no sequel. they don’t even gotta ask. i know i’m being cliche, i hate it, but the only way to explain what ya saying to someone whose brainless is to say it in they native language. lexi, i’m talking to you too, you dang sk-nk b-tch ! get on a f-cking track and test me and let’s see how long ya rep’s left standing. better start getting ready in settling for plan b. jeez i probably caught a godd-mn disease just listening to you f-cking choke on beat my ears are starting to bleed more than your period. i’m serious i been spitting for five minutes, i still didn’t say all the sh-t i wanted, f-ck it. i covered the jist so just swallow a bottle of my p-ss, get hepat-tis and die b-tch!

[verse two]
nah f-ck that, neither one of these chumps have had enough
i’ma twist they necks till i get respect
i’ma rip they heads off their esophogus sockets
if i cannot knock some sense in their conscience
i’m in a leauge of my own, i don’t know why they won’t leave me alone
i’m puzzled, i guess they see i’m king in the underground scene
so they crowd around me, trying to get piece, or even dethrone me of this seat
i’ll never eat defeat, won’t even be close, so f-ck charles and lexi g
f-ck em’ both, i’m jaws dawg, you gonna need a bigger boat, to go
toe to toe with this shark, y’all p-ssed off, y’all launch 10 bombs , and i shake it off
like taylor swift if she was one of my fins, y’all are the fishes still learning to swim
stick to the sh-r-, i’m picniking on these knit picking wh-r-s, y’all are k!lling rap, talking bout b-tches, pills, cash, wheels and gats i’m sore of that sort of rap, let’s put the focus towards the fact, that it’s just that, a rap, bragging about lavish riches, when you know it’s just this
life you’ve never lived in, oh and i forget to mention, there’s something i been needing to bring to y’alls attention, so listen i, i hate to dwell, but i ate adele at 12 cause well, she was rolling in the deep and i was really f-cking hungry. so the f-cking ugly, dumb b was lunch meat for me tummy, but she was yummy. i think i taste her grammy’s dissolving, hard to say since the artists they play on the radio today, sounds all the same, overrated and over played, in every nation on every station. i could make an…entire alb-m about them. –real 15 seconds of charles rap–

[verse three]
it’s sickening isn’t it? that was charles attempt at spitting some sh-t. he says he’s the next eminem, we ent-tled to opinions, but his is beyond ridiculous. his world is ficticious, scrubbing dishes, pretending he’s f-cking b-tches, he just wishes he was this sick and consistent, and content enough to contend with half of the sh-t what i’ve written
i’m leaking gas in an astatine, i got plenty of polonium for your -ss to kick
other words, i’ma tragic accident waiting to happen and as fate would have it
ya mother uttered those same verbs as her reaction during your birth
so should i murder her first or the loner who boned her…whoa! hold up
ya father was a donor…awh that explains why you’re a stoner with no sperm
i’ma winner in life so enter inside a beautiful mind, i’ma sit here and write
sinister rhymes and inscrutable lines, so brutal it’s hard when cruical spits bars
i’d rather get lost in bruno mars, sh-t on my mom, or call the laws on myself and get thrown in jail again, if the result had meant getting rid of this unintelligent jealous b-tch, he’s helpless all helps with is p-ssing on the art i put my heart in

- psyko

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