| I’ma put him in a basket
|
| Wait, no, put him in a casket
|
| Douse it in some sulfuric acid
|
| Proceed to throw the matches
|
| And watch it burn to ashes
|
| 'Cus I am feeling so graphic
|
| I’ma cut your tongue out and teabag it with my big nuts
|
| I will sew your lips shut and tie your hips up
|
| Puttin' salt in all your fuckin' wrist cuts
|
| Til it’s blistered
|
| Motherfucker do you get the fucking picture?
|
| How fast will you react after I crash this flat black Cadillac in to the back
|
| of your wack Pontiac
|
| In fact, it seems your body is still intact
|
| I’ll pull you out the car, put it in reverse and then I laugh
|
| My eyes are turning orange, I make your whore cringe
|
| I’ll shoot your door hinge on a robin'
|
| While the floor spins
|
| My bad
|
| I must have panicked
|
| I’m boofin' Xanax then playin' with your gram’s tits
|
| Cause Terror is not over with
|
| Put your hands in the sky if you ready to die
|
| Terror Reid and Eliozie about to bury you alive
|
| Yet another mission, he starts the transmission and goes missing
|
| Can’t find no heart rhythm
|
| So put your motherfuckin' hands all the way to the sky
|
| It’s Reid and Eliozie 'bout to bury you alive
|
| Six feet deep under the street is where you sleep
|
| No other can defeat this discreet meat beatin' thief
|
| I finish first, never finish last
|
| Steppin' on the gas
|
| Yeah, I go and pass
|
| Now you in the past, in the fast lane
|
| In the drop-top counting cash
|
| Shove an hourglass up your ass and head to first class
|
| Now all these bitches lookin' at me
|
| For this d, like some fiends
|
| I’m a dream, up my self-esteem
|
| I am on the screen
|
| I’m a machine
|
| Something that this world has never seen
|
| I got the genes, flip the high beams and empty the magazine
|
| Click, clack, chicka boom bow
|
| Headshot straight between your fucking eyebrows
|
| Literally lyrically confusing
|
| I bought a 3D printed Uzi, because I’ve seen it in a movie
|
| They pull up in a hoopty
|
| And try to shoot me
|
| I gave that ass a rash so fast, I hit them with the fuckin' two piece
|
| So call the police, capiche?
|
| 'Cus this beast is off his leash
|
| And I don’t think you want to see me in the streets
|
| Put your hands in the sky if you ready to die
|
| Terror Reid and Eliozie about to bury you alive
|
| Yet another mission, he starts the transmission and goes missing
|
| Can’t find no heart rhythm
|
| So put your motherfuckin' hands all the way to the sky
|
| It’s Reid and Eliozie 'bout to bury you alive
|
| Six feet deep under the street is where you sleep
|
| No other can defeat this discreet meat beatin' thief |