I'm comin from the chinese restaurant in a pose
Step to me and get the chopsticks shoved off up in yo nose
At your funeral I'll be be sittin wit some wan-tan soup
I sharpened the edges so i could murder hoes in a group
Stabbed in you belly stuffed the guts all up in yo mouth
So every time i feed you what i fed it comes back out

Next weapon-feather duster