[Godfather Don] Why can't anyone understand that I'm meticulous I reek of putrified flesh The soul serated, contaminated with rhymes illaminated Exhuming each and every last cell from you Kinda clinical, forensical, with sound under Clowned dumber niggas then you wack 'em with round numbers Sound runners when I swarm with spawn to the sound comers In an embryonic state I race like cess and decrepitating bowel Caused by stress makes up a large mess Up your whole mic, that's what your soul's like, foul sense When spit drips from your oral cavity I slit wrists The blood letter with a Beretta, don't give a Playfight, bust this rip shit on your gravesight Then I make charred remains of your mescalated black soma Til the last bone in your coffin was often Then I spat on ya, rancid remains lay stinkin' Even OJ asks \"What the FUCK was you thinking?!\"
I'm sick, I crash cadavers and suck brains through it Cerebelums kaleidoscopic, my melon retains fluid Divine intervention between your living spleen Seems erratic, static, having mattered to splattered Slightly burned dermis, that's excavated, decorated My desecrated cauldron where I skull men All in fall in, like blazed glass that shatter in The megaloblastic anemia, your blood scatters And run for cover from the organism, next Born in kicking necks, on the written text Spittle trickles and and oxidates trough levels of blaspheme And devils, I was last seen with shovels Taking kidneys, collapsing jaundice, spit suckers Irrigating your grating, I'm shoving mics up your tuckus All types of shit gets stripped from your hollow husk I swallow dust and moisten your corpse with aloe musk Plus trespassers get bust by just the tusk Releases diseases, Jesus must have rushed on us Crush the pus dripped on the blade and I licked it Hold your sack and split it from ya, cue biters to ditches, damn