Throw'd - Napalm Saliva lyrics

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)