Nice Q - Tragédie lyrics

You're better off dead than living like a coward If you want blood shed I'm a rip your heart out and yell Power to the men in charge who but versifix And his deadly squad it's inevitable like constant pressure From your styles hard to feel like a track with too much Treble armed rebel seeking to fight in gods Cause intercepting messages from government top dogs The verbal warrior I travel through spit a**asinating Lyricist that copy my sh** don't trip just be a man And admit that you've been dodging my presence Like a little b**h so dont lie to me b**h with this versifix Any problems that exist between us men From the fourth century till' the d**h of all my enemies Were taking form from deseases to vicious storms Second virs f**er I'm able to shape shift with no lable Type of person who k**s for TV cable make a satanic ritual And nail you to the table and as you screem I drink your blood like a crack feand then I disaper Not to be seen ya that sounds a little ubseen But it's the pyco that makes me this mean changing All of your baby's milk to lean so they go braindead And the towns people try to k** me but I got skin of lead My adrenalin kicks in and all you see is red As your organs are spread all over the room and bed I'm abominable, call me charlie chop off the no man Blood covered snow man, posted up in your back yard Leaving you with no hands, to wipe your a** with After that sh** you spit, this is horror core b**h I'm keeping this drastic, agony please be everlasting And soul capturing, I can't contain my urges to make Your skull cap collapse, with a series of back kicks And fat lips, the foreplay before I begin to stab sh** Leaving your gut's stuck to my mattress In them satin sheets with three latin Chicks I don't f** with the devil cuz He my b**h I'm the boss around Johnson ask my brother he in CPT The motherf**ing the ripper the only Mexican asesino You will ever see Glock clocked aimed at your a** moe Money to murder you f*gs fake rap like put a hole In your a** you ain't herd of a brown wet back get up In yout a** straight outta Compton till' I'm off in the dust