[Intro:]
*Actually, technically speaking he's, not really a murderer*
*He never killed anyone*
*He finds ways for his victims to kill themselves*
[Verse 1: Bomshot]
A rap phenomenon
I skin rappers and use 'em as pages in my rhyme-book like the Necronomicon
Through each phase of time I invent these modes
Mathematically precise like The Da Vinci Code
I see celestial beings when I stare at the stars
And wonder how long will they built the pyramids on Mars
Drew up an observation, since birth the cops watched me
Giving lyrical lobotomies, alien autopsies
Area 51 is where they run mad experiments
Fuck around and give your ass an out-of-body experience
I need to fight, so when I squeeze the mic
It causes my rhymes to travel faster than the speed of light
You'll bleed tonight, best believe these shots hurt you
Leave my rhymes carved on your chest just like crop circles
Decapitations, how I took off the head
And you can still read about them in the Book of the Dead
[Hook: several samples and scratches]
Proceed with caution
Carrying heavy steel
Pull out and load up the nine
Don't give a fuck about nothing
[Verse 2: Jus Allah]
You can't handle it, you can't keep your candle lit
I'm a black amulet, you're a piece of camel shit
All you hear is the hammer kick
All you see, is the time to exist, then the camera clicks
Knock 'em down just as high as they can build 'em
The slavemaster just set me free and I still killed him
I'll fuck his children, should know I got the best feeling
I could swear my fucking feet touch the ceiling
I try to stand back from the devil's things
Why would God interact with lower level beings?
The blind don't walk on the street
In the jungle the lions don't talk to the sheep
Motherfuckers is weak
I wanna fucking laugh so bad I suck on my cheeks
Ask Allah why I fuck white bitches?
She ain't never seen a dick over nine inches
[Hook]
[Verse 3: Evil Dead]
Sharper image, frigid when I sparks the blizzard
Talk is sniffing, y'all got my nostrils itching
Boston fitted's, long tees and Adidas
Rhyme for their kicks, car keys and they beep us
Jeepers creepers, street dreams will deceive ya
Sleep for three days and I'mma peep y'all on Easter (Jesucristo!)
Pleased to meet ya
Evil Dead breeze through your streets with the meat cleavers
Cleavage and skeeter, peter, armed sneakers
Shower clock, speakers and out-the-box heaters
You not to be confused with you lost cause schemers
Hotbox with rocks in the drop top Beemers
Chop shop skeezers, geishas, madre mia
Papi need to feed off the goons, the god reach ya
Talk is cheaper, the East stay on, preach on
And who needs Shaitan?