Verse 1:
Okay, let's start from the ending
You b**hes pushed me to this
Man, I'm so over the edge
And I ain't talking 'bout no cliff
I'm talking feeling unstable resorting to violence
And as my tool of destruction: I'm shooting words out my lips
My words created from vengeance; more deadly than hollow tips
Weight of the world on my shoulders; my shoulders stacked up with chips
I'm taking aim at the s**as who sat there just spouting doubt
Silence you with the silencer that could rally a crowd
I'm dropping bombs on the Judas, proving that karma is ruthless
I can't eat pork, but I'll split you pigs open like oceans with Moses
I'm concentrated and focused
And in case you ain't noticed
My murderous rhythm won't end until I make the world notice
That I don't fit in the picture, don't give two sh**s 'bout your gram
Your tweets went over my head, so I guess I must understand
That your persona is fake, hiding in gra** like a snake
Not showing your true intention as long as there's room to take
A bite out of the success
They tell me that they're impressed:
"Boy you the best in the game, we run with you f** the rest"
They keep lying to my face, last week they hated my race
They love me now because I left and they can't keep up the pace
I have nobody to trust, tell me ain't that f**ed up?
They stopped calling me a terrorist the day I blew up
I think that I've had enough; I'm sick and tired of waiting
For them to give me success, so I'ma go out and take it
My urge to k** is alive, my sympathy has died
And I'll gladly lock up my freedom to go through lyrical homicide
Chorus x2:
Sticks and stones may break my bones
But words can put me in a grave
Sound the alarm then take cover
Cuz bombs get dropped when this record gets played
Verse 2:
Can somebody line up every wanna-be rapper
Sit'em down and tell'em that Christmas this year is come early
Have'em pack up all their sh** and then send them on vacation
My gift to you's early retirement rolled out on a gurney
Cuz honestly I'm so sick, of listening to the same sh**
You wasted three minutes talking 'bout the way
Your Rolley tick
You keep a bag filled with cash stashed in the hood of your whip
You could've built up a city just from moving all those bricks
We heard it all homie, we heard it all homie
We heard it so much I could write your whole next album homie
It must be hard for you, I know
Trying to go through denial
You try to pedal your way out but your wheels stuck in the cycle
All your sh** sounds recycled and it's about damn time
For me to clean up your act, cuz you all reading the same line
The same script, well I'm about to tear down the whole set
You walking a thin line and the bottom has no net
Bury you so deep your fans have no choice but forget
And if you try to come-back, well I'll end you
And that's no threat
This sh** here's a promise
Man, I can't help being honest
When you're this f**ing truthful
Then there's no need to be modest
If the truth hurts, then bleed
Cuz I predict like a prophet
Your apocalypse is coming and it's making me profit
Chorus x2