[Intro]

Today, he's finally, acting as a suggestion of his family's doctor, he's made an appointment to see a psychiatrist, and yet here on the threshold he hesitates, still battling himself, still, holding back, just going to a psychiatrist, is it really the right thing to do? Is boredom worth all this fuss? Can a psychiatrist really help?

Suffocation

Sleepaway Camp shit

Raw, no skin poppin'

Intravenous

Powder form ([?] of drugs)

Yo

[Verse]

Coked up pitchin' heat, Doc Gooden (Yeah)

I'm active, you already know (you already know, son!), what the cops couldn't (Yeah, yo)

In the back lot cookin'

I'm gettin' head from a head severed, so the top crooked (Yeah)

I'm raw uncut, eight millimeter snuff, these kids is stock footage

At the lock hooding, how can I not put it? (Umm)

Murder, the first time I did it, I was not lookin'

My own body of work is like a dead body at birth, she's not pushin' (Ahhh)

At the stove top, you smell rocks cookin'

My product like Reagan on the strip, I left the whole block cookin' (Cheah!)

On my Shelley Duvall shit, I utter Tourettes (Dah, dah, dah)

Somebody cuttin' my check, legend

Runnin' deep in the crust of cement, like Versace's blood on the steps

This for my hellions, on Earth visitors where Hell is

Opened well then drop gels in, I'mma drop EP's like Elvis

I'm your lord and leader, being drained alive in this leech pit with breeders

Me and my believers will chop down and smoke the sacred cedar

Freezer ill (freezer ill) but the pen is torch, spoon bendin' thoughts

Large pie (large pie), extra sauce (Whaaat?)

Spittin' blood like a hand when its head is off

Plutonic blanket, Pennsylvania Ave., dead 'em all

I'm not gettin' caught, 'cause the latex gloves (what), will kill the Prince like Fentanyl (Oh)