I’ll cut you to ribbons n’ shred the bitches that fled
liftin a lead pipe, yah dead right I’m sick in the head
grippin a red stained blade that’s aimed straight
at lame fakes to suffer the same fate for pain’s sake
I retain hate… fuck what you say I remain great
make critics throw up like bulimics when they gain weight
I’m the type to wave five blades with a psycho’s rage
cuz I’m hot headed like oral sex in microwaves
I write this way to build weapons used to shatter
you and your opinions cuz only the music matters… get it right
