(Yeah... Feelin' classy today. Well, aight. Let's go.) I'm not even one to psycho I'm so afraid that everybody looks at my lyrics There's a lot o typo (Yeah)
Money rate growing in my pocket is the minimal Running from the mobs of people Treat me like a criminal The pinnacle of raw entertainment, my basement Throwing rocks at main events I ain't revel the havoc And take it easy in the hammock Al Qaeda is the testimony Don't you ever rectify
The killable syllables In the pinnacle of emphasis I'm a creepy little rapper Coming out the factory, capture me I will be the toughest rapper, actually Watch me as I drag my ass to the top gradually (Ugh)
I never sleep I stay away and prey on the weak Then I devour the freaks And then I pray for the weak I transmit gamma rays And break off the manta ray's tail Raise hell on a Saturday And stabbin' people
Yeah Another rapper washin' the dishes Don't look at me and my sick compositions
(Oh sick)
I am done with this feelin' I am done with this feelin' All you suckers this evenin' All you suckers this evenin' Are goin' down...