Aight here it goes.

It's six in the mornin I'm at this niggaz doorstep/
look inside his window notice that he ain't home yet/
so i break in and wait until he enters/
I start to smirk and follow my own agenda/
he senses me and starts to around/
then in a swift motion the only sound/
is him gasping for air, but shit i really dont care/
i took the grass blade and slit it across his adams apple/
then i grabbed it and made it crackle/
i turned the grass to side/
and slit the lens of his eyes/
and during all this the one thing goin through my mind/
was Die cocksucker DIE,DIE, DIE/
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Aight the next weapon is a plastic bag