| I’m a nice guy
|
| My lifes a light sky
|
| So Much love I might cry
|
| Not! |
| Nice Try
|
| I’m an evil seed and the day I sleep and the night fly
|
| G.A.Z.E. |
| in my E.Y.E'Z and you might die
|
| I’m a horn dog, gotta lotta of the porn yall
|
| Warned yall, I was straight born raw like Ornthall
|
| But I’m way worse because he was cornball
|
| I remember keeping him in my dungeon with a leather suit
|
| And a orange ball in his mouth
|
| I had some foreign bra’s in his house
|
| How did they get twisted and torn claws when in bout
|
| Nine inches then I stuffed dorn draws in his couch
|
| For now I let em suffer in the morn. |
| all then its ouch
|
| I have a devils haircut in my mind
|
| That’s why I be sucking blood and busting nuts in my rhymes,
|
| I’m horny so don’t ignore me if your semi-fine
|
| Me and Gordy, Prozak love orgies and we in our prime and we
|
| Can’t hide the (horns)
|
| And I must hide the (horns)
|
| I live with the (horns)
|
| So I die with the (horns)
|
| If you fuck with the (horns)
|
| Then you get the (horns)
|
| So if you want the (horns)
|
| Then I’ll give you the (horns)
|
| Schizophrenic thoughts spin around my mind sorta like rotisserie
|
| Spittin this wicked ministry to the beat of this rebeck’s symphony,
|
| with a sin for me
|
| Separated by 6 degrees of greed for centuries
|
| And hatred engulfs my sensories like hallow screams from penitentiaries
|
| This perpetuus cycle of depression intention remains bottomless
|
| Even my psychologist said suicide may be the only option out of this
|
| And while the name prozak and insane seem to sustain synonyms
|
| One half of me wants to engage in the fame while the other half subsides
|
| monogamously
|
| A vigilantly that sends deadly packages through the mail
|
| Confusing law enforcement agencies cause I write death threats in brail
|
| With somewhat of a God complex sending the Arabs to the depths of hell
|
| I warned you, you were for warned, now witness like horns unveiled
|
| I’m taking you on a hell ride so grab those safety belts and fasten 'em
|
| Through the screams of tortured souls and eternal flames crackling
|
| Refusing to reap what you sow and wanna stop this all from happening
|
| This madness will continue until all of strange' goes platinum
|
| I’m in the Desert sands of Bethlehem
|
| Trying to get Jesus to get Mary in the manger,
|
| And molest a lamb!
|
| Don’t jerk yourself off Jesus, use someone elses hands,
|
| So where’s those damn disciples,
|
| He’d like to have some sex again!
|
| I guess Young Peter’s receiving,
|
| Cuz Jesus fucked his ass.
|
| Christ is an effin' fag,
|
| He likes to dress in drag.
|
| But hey I guess his Dad is just as mad,
|
| God woulda never had a sissy for a son,
|
| Bet he’s regrettin' that!
|
| But yet we still ain’t accept the fact,
|
| That he’s fuckin' his mother,
|
| And at the Last Supper, he confesses that.
|
| He’s an undercover, Male-Lover,
|
| And oh yeah, Heaven’s wack!
|
| He don’t want the Light,
|
| Now I got Christ wearin' black!
|
| See, I’m the Devil on his shoulder,
|
| Yeah I’m that scary fat demon,
|
| That’ll turn all you hethens into scaredy cats.
|
| King Gordy, the ANTI-Christ, God Killer (no you)
|
| Before and AFTER Christ, I’m called a Sinner,
|
| Muthafucker! |