Forget french crops coz da aids death-toll aint short
N fuck....everyone i'll be infected soon if i aint caught lol
Forget guns coz i'll have ya spun when ya see me run wit syringes
If you dont transfer ya bank ballance ill stab ya...he then winges
as i slowly pierce his skin holding my thumb on the pressure gauge
I write a fake suicide note...who cares da poilce aint gunna know the letters forged
Theirs a special vain in ya back so i lift ya shirt n search around ya back
ya walking on egg-shells so instead i'll take the syring n squirt it down ya hatch(mouth)

the next weapon is a broom