| It’s no quality on the mic that I don’t have
|
| My hands punch through a rock like an Apollo jab
|
| When I was young I used to follow dad
|
| And watch how he would handle more beef than a McDonald’s ad
|
| I’m from a time of Alpina glasses and Diadoras
|
| Fuck around with me your family’s gonna need a florist
|
| It’s no question who running rap cause we the rawest
|
| Hit your head with the thunder clap, you see in Horus
|
| I love my mother to death for giving birth to me
|
| I ain’t even seeing red no more, it’s burgundy
|
| All these bitches is just birds to me
|
| And hearing of another dead cop quenches a thirst in me
|
| Anything that is godly is the reverse of me
|
| The home of Richard Ramirez is like a church to me
|
| I keep a razor in my mouth, it’s like a Certs to me
|
| The way I cut your fucking face is like a surgery
|
| Nothing’s sacred anymore, take your last breath
|
| What I am, what I want, I’m only after death
|
| Sons are born and guns are drawn
|
| Clips are fully loaded and then blood floods the lawn
|
| Nothing’s sacred anymore, take your last breath
|
| What I am, what I want, I’m only after death
|
| Is there life after death and if so where we go?
|
| Black operation, black tie ritual, black magic
|
| Black carpet event on the Black Sabbath
|
| Black helicopter, black metal, black Magnum
|
| Black Berkowitz in a cell with black Manson
|
| My brain’s strange from taking contaminated acid
|
| While you be selling your soul we assassinate assassins
|
| Spray up weddings and funerals, splatter banquets
|
| Bang automatic ratchets and broadcast the transcript
|
| We staring down the barrel of another 9/11
|
| Souls condemned to burn in Hellfire cry for Heaven
|
| Blood money turn the most innocent minds to weapons
|
| Turn children to killers carrying knives in trenches
|
| Selling crack in the rain on the benches with a vengeance
|
| Make a dramatic entrance like the train scene in Death Wish
|
| Spray automatics reckless, leave your brains leaking headless
|
| Pulling out the heavy metal K in broad day and end this
|
| Nothing’s sacred anymore, take your last breath
|
| What I am, what I want, I’m only after death
|
| Sons are born and guns are drawn
|
| Clips are fully loaded and then blood floods the lawn
|
| Nothing’s sacred anymore, take your last breath
|
| What I am, what I want, I’m only after death
|
| Is there life after death and if so where we go?
|
| And then blood floods the lawn
|
| Throwing a body on my lawn
|
| Clips are fully loaded and then blood floods the lawn |