Way to go from underground to play, on the radio... From stages, know my tongue's a serrated blade that's paraded, so You say the wrong thing, I'm fileting your lil brain, fa' show...

My hands like a deck of cards, make a face, fold.
The best playwright to date, is the story that ain't told.
My reality might as well be the greatest show...
Way to go from underground to play, on the radio...
From stages, know my tongue's a serrated blade that's paraded, so
You say the wrong thing, I'm fileting your lil brain, fa' show...
I ain't playing, yo, big budget mayhem, like HBO
The case is cold? Nuh-uh, I say the word n' the case get's "closed".
And just in 'case', they 'case' the joint...
I take this blade, anoint your face with the business end
of that motherfucker, to make a 'point'.
Now, here's the other point. Did you see it?
Look again... you're bleeding. Minutes turn into seconds,
you're blacking out - lights, receding.
Your limbs go numb, major organs shutting down, needing
More blood, n' agonal breathing.
Then, I'll look for a rope to strangle you, meaning...
if there's a small window of hope, there's a zero chance of you, leaving.
Except your kid, in case he plans to get even
I'll wait until he's older n' give that man a good beating!
Fucking punk. Fuck 'em up, then fuck 'em up some more...
Nothing short of a couple rib shots, than watch as his blood gets poured...
His 5th grade teacher like, "Why you got bloody knuckles for??"
"'Cause he bought tickets to the S.S ass whooping, so come aboard!"
Let that motherfucker join in, too.
Ah, I remember middle school. Shit, I scribbled through...
Most my classes. Felt like there wasn't shit to do
Hard to listen through the lectures when professor's are always pissed at you
For not paying attention. Got me in detention...
All day, probably seconds away from getting suspension.
I'm guessing it has a lot to do with popping off ....
Whenever I walked in school. In the principle's office, too - I was talking lewd.
Insidious, you might say.
Shit, when it came to my shit talking, I was more egregious than Dice Clay.
My momma up nights, prayed I'd turn it around...
Every word that I hurl at you now, is surgical, clown.
Smack red noses off of faces.
Demand the same reverence of The Pope, when I walk in places
Not an atheist, but it'll take me a miracle to get in God's good graces...
Lots of angst, so my vitriol leaps off the pages
With such immortality, that they deem me a "closest ageist".
Perhaps I am. No turning back on it, now.
Watch the mouths of the devout Catholics vows collapse, to the ground.
I'm not a part of a faction, 'cause my actions, are vile.
I might fuck around and bring Krampus, back into style.
Cuz y'all are Kramping' my style...
Dancing around the fire of Trump's first month's presidency to burn Canada, down.
Maybe that's too dramatic. Perhaps I should....
put 25% tariffs on my dick n' export it for you, to have it.
Transporting fentanyl over the border - I don't know, chief...
Not ready to pop the balloon on that, perhaps it'll slow leak...
Who's to say it's to leverage bargaining power, for cheap?
Trump, the only thing more dangerous than my keyboard, is your tweets.
But nah, I won't get political.
Whatever side you reside on, is for the individual.
People find it difficult to choose the right or left, so they decide on a middle road
Which's bigger than any given vote...
Oh. Oops. On to different strokes.
They tell me to hold my head high, little to know it's so they can slit my throat.