[Verse 1] What's the point of this Mr. Seven You know this shit is venom and there's no use in listening to heaven Just pretend it's all make believe Take the beat, bash it against the wall, stupid, and rap
Ruby and black, trying keep the music intact From the boom to the bap, do it 'til I lose it and snap Like the part of my spinal cord the noose is attached Bet you that Lucifer approve and groove to my raps
Jealous cats get propeller slapped Gone to hell and back and all I got were these lousy red eyes Headline's are filled with my head's lines The next time I sleep the monster under my bed will prolly want the fucking bed signed
0 1 2 3 4 and check 5 Hero, want to see more of my shed, I'm Still cold unscrewed eve lord and death knight Quill flow comes rude, clean floors of red grime
[Verse 2] When I begin to spit the beat skips a beat Dictionary definition for sick's a picture of me A kick to the teeth for the tooth fairy The boot buried six feet deep, it hit till the kid didn't scream
I'm addicted to being - in a different world that's not Useful in anyway or many say so, but I've learned a lot Excuse me for being presumptuous But artists who can't function on their own commonly come to turn to props
While them veterans are falling off I'm falling ill Scare the hell out of Regan MacNeil, it's all in skill Immaculate flows like Dracula broke the back of your throat Won't be a free spirit after I capture your soul
Rappers saying that they're dope when their raps are a joke At most holding hands with Midas, and not actually gold Work my hands to the bone, in a violent mood Stab you in the back with a straw and drink your spinal fluid