I jack off so many times a day, I'm shutting down abortion clinics
Burning people to my left & right like I'm who*e with Syphilis
I'd back you into the f**ing corner, if you weren't more defenseless
Attacking the coroner, leaving the mourners to wonder what the f** that stench is
Throw'd, can't rhyme or flow, you know that's a poor description
Sharp at every angle like a porcupine flying through a sword convention
The more you talk, the sicker i get, the more i hate, the more i get
Horny from winding up the torture devices to leave your torso stretched
Some people say that being angry can drive you to be your very best
And also help you wipe the board clean like losing a game of chess
Every grudge i ever f**ing held I've now just laid to rest
There's nobody on this mothaf**in planet that's worth a day of stress
Channel my spirit through each and every intellectual conscience medium
Communication with multiple dimensions just isn't that remedial
I feel as sick as i feel detached but connected to the evil
A savior to myself, a f**ing demon to these people
I lost my girlfriend, lost my apartment, yeah i lost my salary
But I've cried more from plucking my eyebrows and seasonal allergies
More numb than an anesthesiologist that dips into his own supply
Slightly apathetic to the fact that everything i love will die
(Chorus x2)
My lyricism's a light that isn't in the f**ing light spectrum
Give me various local emcees, and I'll f**ing dissect them
I got more dangerous thoughts than yours coming out my rectum
A walking man on fire is how you know i blessed him
I used to be corny and awkward as f** when i try to blast upon a beat
But now all of a sudden this random rapping's occurring naturally to me
My soothing wordplay would surely calm the rage of Revenants
While the sh**ty entertainment industry of modern day's a f**ing pestilence
I hear the sounds of crushing skulls every time my f**ing pencil hits
Every paper i write my lyrics on fills up with blood before I finish it
Worldwide high magnitude earthquakes replicate the sound of me mating
I fit more words into a bar than literature majors that're speed dating
Subconscious pattern recognition, hoe, don't make me doubt my intuition
After quickly efficient calculations deem that you've been the s*ut that's itching
Begging to burn my dick off but i'd rather skip the antibiotic prescription
On a scale of 1-10 how likely is it that i don't f** with b**hes?
(Chorus x2)