| Terrorize your whole click
|
| Make you suck on your own nips
|
| Now spit the cancer out
|
| Grab a Glock, call me sir manson alot
|
| Blow your brains on the seat
|
| Vericose veins on the street
|
| Cocaine dust and weed
|
| Kill you slowly its a must you bleed
|
| Pop a vein in your skull from the stress
|
| Feelin numb in your chest
|
| Anxiety attack
|
| Murder you with a variety, an axe
|
| A mack, a blackjack, a back crack
|
| Right upside ya damn head
|
| For talkin shit about this kid
|
| You bled sadistic and red
|
| My bicuit pumps led
|
| Cock it, obnoxious
|
| Your chopped up in boxes
|
| I’m toxic, my topics are gothic
|
| Morbidity, you can’t rid of me
|
| The reason is humanity is spit to me
|
| So kill yourself and write a note
|
| Right before the noose wraps tight around your throat
|
| Your windpipe is choked
|
| New York is full of tranvestites in coats
|
| Trenches, wenches controlled and sacirficing goats
|
| It’s death, 42 street, tearin it
|
| Reppin it, sellin shit, melivilent
|
| I got 3 in the fam, me and my man
|
| Will beat you with hands
|
| Leave you beneath the sand
|
| Your sinkin, quickly
|
| I’m thinkin, I’m sickly
|
| I need medication the cadavers are gettin stinky
|
| Your weaker than a pinky
|
| Strangle you wit a slinky
|
| DIE!!! |