I'm so mutha fuckin ill, my shit is cold, can you hear it//
Pull the hammer out the cloak turn ya physical to spirit//
Rip the Adams out ya throats so these poor kids don't gotta hear it//
Have em clutching on they chest death gasping from a lyric//
Ya spit preschool shit soft like leather draws//
The shit is trash it is fact that's why I laugh when they credit y'all//
They shit spoiled mine fresh like steak when you get it raw//
Find em in the studio hangin from a mic cord severed jaw//