| It’s about to get worse, they wanna know
|
| What does worse mean?
|
| I’ll get back to you when the clock strikes thirteen
|
| Fuck y’all feelings, position face down, shit
|
| I roll another one, then I light it for getting grounded
|
| I touch down, not a minute past thirteen
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| They wanna pretend my arrival was one of the worst things
|
| But what do their words mean? |
| Fuck 'em anyway
|
| They’re sitting around, just praying I put the pen away
|
| Somewhat of a renegade, maybe not so much
|
| Just squattin' on the bomb whenever the fuck it blows up
|
| But really you know what? |
| Sick of you saying I’m jaded
|
| They say that my flow sucks, it’s great to say I made it
|
| The underrated, most hated and then some
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| I don’t repent, I toss it in the wind when the sin’s done
|
| So gimme the big guns, behold the hesitation
|
| I’m self-medicating this headache in hell pacing
|
| Tell Satan to wait in a cell, patient
|
| I’m burning at the stake, so whenever he smells Jason
|
| I regulate, like a couple of
|
| So shoot for something or fall for nothing like shell casings
|
| Worth waiting, for fucking on five alive
|
| Six times sicker than every senseless homicide
|
| And like a quadriplegic, yeah I’ma ride on 'em
|
| They wanted to battle, but I ain’t got the time for 'em
|
| What is your focus, foe? |
| Fire away
|
| Might as well, right? |
| Cause you can die any day
|
| And by the way, burning black tops I be tarred in it
|
| Like the second prototype of my bars are off minute
|
| Y’all admit it, when y’all said it, that it, without a reason
|
| I’m wondering why would they hate on me outta season
|
| I’m looking around for something to put the trees in
|
| And snatch my head off my shoulders to let 'the breeze in
|
| We’s in the position of when, then again
|
| We first must harness all the energy within
|
| I’m still short of the duckets they wanted me to lend
|
| And I got nothing to show for it but enemies
|
| And it’s about to get worse, they wanna know
|
| What does worse mean?
|
| I’ll get back to you when the clock strikes thirteen
|
| Kill 'em and let god sort 'em, I’m out, B
|
| Repent and you can get the crown to heaven without me
|
| (And it’s about to) get worse, they wanna know
|
| What does worse mean?
|
| I’ll holla back when the clock strikes thirteen
|
| Fuck y’all feelings, position is face down, shit
|
| I roll another one, then I light it for getting grounded
|
| It’s about to get worse, when the clock strikes thirteen, thirteen
|
| Deevil! |