I’m that - actor murderer, rapper burier

The mack that clap ya area, you soft as ‘lac interior

You niggas all chicken, raw salmonella carriers

You rap in cafeterias, I bomb like [?]

The Mac-10, holdin' straight, a dozer with quarter tank

Basically, you short of fate, call the First 48

The rabbit at tortoise pace, with an avid act to fornicate

Unmatched status with these bitches, like a pimp that cannot coordinate

The fuckin' Blind Samurai witta sword that's pointin' for the face

The niggas that can’t correlate, that's feelin' somethin more than hate

The sub that make the floor end shake, the EQ that distort the bass

The Ed Gein Horror Case, the fuckin' real Norman Bates

The Macintosh, hackin' blog, the after of a hatchet brawl

Jason with his mask took off, the matrix that was half as long

Your neck slashin', use your head for practice, type of animal

The cannibal, set fire to aerosol, the biggest fan of Saw

The fan appalled, the end of Black Swan which you can’t applaud

Burglar in urban camouflage, a turret that shootin' cannon balls

Merrier with his hands cut off, heart purer than a enema

The all black trailer park, with all day sailor talk

The pen and paper, the Pacific Coast earthquaker

The sent creator, the stick it in holes, peg player

The death bed maker, the toe curler and leg shaker

Movie maker, the Hannah Montana just turned eighteen impregnator

The sex major, lone ranger that test nature

Crime death taper, the maggoty flesh scraper

The crackin' from stress neighbor, that's packin' a tech flama

The back of the desk raider, the danger of six chambers

Despite haters, the kid with the nice lay up

Give her the pipe slayer, Darth Maul’s double edged lightsaber

The life savior, the dike breaker, an ice glacier

The piledriver, neck breaker, old-school flow, cassette player

[?]

Your estranged lover callin' from strange numbers, in a faint mumble

The game fumble from a slippery rain puddle

That abstained couple’s first time, with champagne bubbles

Yung Berg’s chain troubles, the sharpness of face stubble

The cage rumble rupture luster that's punchin' until sprained knuckles

I flame juggle, pillow frontly placed on the eight muffler

The inmate that hates chuckles, the smoke from watchin' estates crumble

I hate takin' sides, fresher than the scent of pine

That's the second time I wrecked ‘em, my presence will mesmerize

I'mma zombie that could look alive, a gamble like the shook of die

I'mma geek with a block cosign, Big and Pac’s last goodbye