[Intro]
What you're about to witness
Is a near life experience
[Hook x2]
Everybody knows they need me to come back
Rock shows, fuck hoes and keep it on track
Indepedent right now, so keep your contracts
Motherfuckers!
[Verse 1]
From the Iowa fields all the way out to south beach
They lovin' the kid with the burningfull mouthpiece
Spittin' out these flows, cause without me
These motherfuckers are slippin' like standing on grease
I got my feet firm on the ground
Just waitin' to bring the flame, and baby I burn em down
Takin' your lady, makin' her crazy, bend over and turn around
Hit it and pass it on to my homies, can turn it out
That's what's up with that midwest melodic flow
That you know was inspired by Bone Thugs for sure
Let em know, we ain't fuckin' around
Country boy let me know when you're comin' to town
I'm back like the opposite of front is
Here to do the underground justice
Get up off my nuts kid
Gone so long that you almost forgot me
But I'm back up in the cut, like a fucking autopsy
[Hook]
[Verse 2]
Don't even had to hear, cause I rip it into shreds
Underground motherfucker, representin' till I'm dead
Professional against you little messengers of death
My wrecking crews attestin' to the fact that I'm the best
I ain't got to rep recruit to let you know, that it's on fucker
Your dads got a uglier son than Tom Tucker
Leave your little homos and cock suckers
Extinct like Dodo's from a 44 tuckers
No gangster, but I do know crazy
People that will buck you, on some fuck you pay me
Leave you leaking brain gravy and maybe
Lookin' like your forehead just gave birth to a baby
Raw talkin' rockin' and non stopin'
Sock ‘em in the head till the skeleton softens
Hit em with the blade till his arms fall off him
Choppin' so the body can fit in the small coffin
[Hook]
[Verse 3]
The musical gift that I got from my popa
Got me popping on the scene as a rhyme talker
Might stalk you, you fucking with a crime author
Taking over, horrorcore is my genre
I'm the king and you know it if you heard me
I’m worthy of the crown from my dirty
Sound now that you down with the misson
We gon' stand here firm, no leaving opposition
We deserve much better than we got, heading for the top
If they in the bulidin’ we behead ‘em with the chops
Sever in their top, with a sharp machete till they flop
Then we cook em up, steady in the kettle or a pot
All my teammates know that they're fuckin' with the straight boss
Starving rappers till they're skinnier than Kate Moss
Weight loss from the fact that they came soft
Had to come back cause the game fell way off