VERSE ONE:

Fuck boys get disrespected and killed out,
And they ain't ready to witness death but they will now,
It's real how I could rip your flesh and it peels down off your fuckin chest at the buckets of guts i spilled out,
How does it feel now?
Cause I'm terror with fires of chimera inside of my fuckin grill now,
The knife bearer with pipe shares,
I might spare a life if I fight fair and swallow these little pills down,
Yeah,
I'm full of psychoactives in a bath with Whitney Houston,
Taking naps with Michael Jackson,
I go smashin hydro grasses,
Got you paranoid and scared of things,
You're hiding in the closet,
I'm hanging with David Carradine,
And I'll be up all night like I ain't seen sleep,
Probably wake up dead in a coffin that's three feet deep,
The scene's bleak and you can find me where the fiends creep as I proceed to make ears bleed out on these mean streets...

VERSE TWO:

Unforgiven for my livid indiscretions,
Living in this picture perfect imperfection I perfected,
Since the second I could question misdirect directed simple sections sectioned into nimble bending limbs I ripped and disconnected,
Injection keeps me Icobody headless horseman,
Sick of Gotti portions this ungodly presence courses through my veins,
I pick apart these random endomorphins when my wicked art of sickened hearts was left abandoned with the corpses,
Yeah,
They know they'll never be me,
I'll sing it in soprano with the ghost of Gandolphini,
So feed me marijuana smoke and hope you never see me when I rip your fuckin abdomen to maggot scallopini,
And I'll be up all night like I ain't seen sleep,
Probably wake up dead in some pussy that's three feet deep,
The scene's bleak and you can find me where the fiends creep as I proceed to make ears bleed out on these mean streets...

VERSE THREE:

I am hostile from the awful thoughts and bottle pulling vodka shots,
I'm poppin off and stocking lots of bodies on my chopping blocks,
A mantra for the dead to rot your head with Akhenaten knots,
I'm nodding off to bed I wont forget to lock the coffin box,
I'm doctor octagon with flocks of prosti-walking succubusses,
Fuck you cause this ugliness is coming once you suck you substance,
Hundred dollar bills with erythroxylum esophaguses,
Coughing off the chronic while your honoring the offering,
A sacrifice,
Of course I worship the savage Christ,
No remorse,
You're a horror story enforced with a stabbin knife,
I'm a sport with a four forty and store you with bags of Ice,
You're a corpse with no for-warning rewarding my appetite for the disdain,
Sickness affixing to this brain,
Viciously feeling krocodil is still within his veins,
Thick stains of blood,
The proper ceiling for this grave,
Switch blades and guns for softer killers and bitch mades,
You are 138 away from being misfits,
One pearly gate away with bleeding slit wrists,
One serving weight a day to feed the sixes and this demon on my shoulder crossing names between his hit list,
I'm packing bags of bones in cracks of catacombs and stacking racks of battered cold cadavers like collectibles,
I wanna trache you to a place thats full of necks with holes and vanish into missing person posters on electric poles...