If you're ready for war? I hope that you're sending a soldier A culture so demented the prose poses death while pretending it's closure...

But I don't give a damn, y'all... I scream at the top of my lungs...
from the bottom to the top I have brought the power to rock you cowards...
Yeah deflower your ego's, they looking
at the result like, "How's it legal?", Soylent green type of shit, devouring people...
Scour the earth with a powerful verse... a reign supreme....
Like how the fuck can a Canadian change the scene?
Saw the genetic make up; maybe it's Maybelline
Maybe the day he dreamed of being the best, the being attested to seeing the rest...
It's like fleeing the nest...
But the overbearing light is feeding his stress...
He's gonna keep trying... the melody plays the beat by him...
Rinse and repeat, the invincible peak... prying
it... the requirement of reaching a higher niche is desired, which
fires him up... retiring punks prior to cutting
the structure down... an entire 360, he doesn't fuck around...
Sucka... both knuckles ready to do damage
How do you dudes manage to keep a handle on skill... planning with an amateurs will?
Nobody is a fan of ya, kill on point and keep going
like camera film... see if you can keep pace with the stance of the Guild...
All of the shit that goes on can't prolong this assessment...
Plus the reality of the matter goes beyond the investment...
I mean, check out the talent to be... see how the senile
easily forget how we pile up and leave a bunch of bodies surrounding the scene...
They're crowning a fiend... a man who loves witnessing death...
The interest has left such a profound mark on his life, that the "dark"? is his light...
You can see him walking the park, with his Parka and knife...
Taking a spark, getting baked before placing a stake straight through you heart...
Which is one of the ways he can take you apart...
Just face it, his complacency marks a way of making this statement, his art...
A disaster that's calling... A Picasso who plasters his wall
with the dead bodies cast, and doesn't ask for applauding...
Just grabs his mask and goes mauling...
Spitting acid, dissolving
tracks in the bin... with a Phantom Mask, masking his grin...
Ha... pretty graphical? tactical placement... me
Moving faster than Jason... through the woods before slashing your face in...
Cutting you in half and then placing
the lower torso into a trash bag that's stashed in the waste bin
...placed in the back of his basement...
Weird shit... the lyrics got spear tips... lames get owned...
Big names get their heads chopped off their necks; Game of Thrones...
Singular motion, I play alone... a swinging devotion...
of pain I've honed... writing the same, in a changing tone (huh)
Yep... Donald Sutherland with the smoothness... conniving as shit..
Maniacal with two mechanical arms prone to violence and shit...
His timing? legit... yeah, rhyming as quick
as Twista' and Mac Lethal... a venomous cobra penetrating the pen that it holds up...
If you're ready for war? I hope that you're sending a soldier
A culture so demented the prose poses death while pretending it's closure...
Ugh... a beautiful ugly musical drug...
of lunacy wit... in tune with his dick, fucking your wife, I'm Alan... unusually Thicke...
There's too much truth to this shit...
The exclusive, man, he use to be sick...
enough for a picker up... now he's losing his grip on the views he's equipped...