Terrorize ya whole clique make suck ya own dickz
And spit the cancer out, grab a glock; call me Sir Manson-a-Lot
Blow ya brains on the seats varicose veins on the streets
Cocaine dust and weed, kill you slowly it's a must you bleed
Pop a vein in ya skull from the stress feelin numb in ya chest
Anxiety attack, murder you with a variety
An axe, a mack, a black jack, or BAD crack
Right upside ya fuckin head, for talking shit about this kid
You bled, sadistic and red, my biscuit pumps lead
Cock it, obnoxious, get chopped up in boxes
I'm toxic, my topics are gothic
Morbidity you can't get rid of me
the reason this humidity is shit to me
So kill ya'self and write a note
Right before my crew wraps da mic tight around ya throat
Ya windpipe is choked
New York is full of transvestites in coats
Helpless wenches control and sacrificing goats
It's death for these second street derelicts
Reppin' it sellin shit malevolent
Mad felons kid I got three in the fam
Me and shifty and 20 grand will beat you with hands leave you beneath the sand
You sinkin quickly, I'm thinking, I'm sickly
I need medication the cadavers are getting stinky

DATS TO MIC-WRECKER// AND HIS CREW

LETS GET DIS SHIT STARTED

__________________
IAM BACK FUCKAH'Z HELL~! NEVA LOOKED SO GOOD