For your Wargasmic pleasures,
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The tool to the text makes it how it sounds, shit, I inspire Spanish
While ambulating entire planets,
To put U to the test without calculating my tires traction.
Make vampires faggots, while cannon-pliers, make the havoc fire vanish.
Extractin’ higher gasses while the planted wire lashes,
Flick a paper-clip up, and staple lips shut, ‘cause I cant stand a liars passion.
Back-stab entire factions; Being regnant, mastering the flow in text.
Slamming-in these hopeless vets, witta Kracker-D to choke your neck
- Hazardly corrode the flesh - you know what, that’ll be your slogan next!
Strangling to show you threats. Then exiting wounds, concealing ciphers
Rhymes being pedaled in two’s,
Feel the writer, while I put metals in you like William Stryker!
The mighty skill igniter, being torpid, obviously. A inhuman being,
born an anomaly, wit’ the concept of gore as my horror philosophy
Where words get torn in a mockery without a storm of apostrophes.
Embalming the fluids of the sacrificial lambs, resembling you.
The craft’ll hit’chu. It’s more of an havoc issue than the Temple of Doom.
The blade and the Wrath’ll slit you,
The rage’ll damage tissues ‘for I sever the wound. Mad statistic too.
Slam the bitch in you - extract the visuals from November to June.
Make bitches mourn,
Get melted in liquid form, witta razor-like strike of my tongue
…and a vicious thorn, making lives to become an iceberg to the Sun.
A writer for the fun, with battlefield messages scattered around my pain.
Step back,
or get snapped; my pad reveals negligence, daggers, and live grenades.
A Hannibal Lector-like master inside the rage - Scorching sentences…
Morphing nemesis to torpid messages, forming my souring premises.
Abort or exit with constant wishes, or I will limit all God’s forgiven.
‘cause I’m living proof that outerworld inhumanity is NOT non-existent.
Just adding more faces to court cases, leading trials to Practice…
Write shit down of the Supernova tactics,
die before a high-pitch sound… I’m sick and tired of choir in classes
Visit me.
iThe Boss, and actually, I’m tired of ALL OF YOU - War finna fire the planet…
…Literally.
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