'Gutter

• Written by 

I slide wit a blade in the pocket like a bandage torn
marchin' in wit demons, no priest, no morn
grindin' up sins in a chalice, blackened malice
steppin' out the attic with tactics like galactus, no balance
I dont stall, I dont stutter, I aim at the gutter
make a nigga hover off the soul like I cut up his mother
slide in the booth wit a screw loose, voice like a warhead
I spit truth like a contract breach, I see red
rip flesh like war flashbacks in my dome
they soft spoken clones, I talk loud in catacombs
treat em like stew, bones, broth, and ligaments
I bend elements like testaments twistin' instruments
I step wit the pestilence, plague to ya residence
nigga yappin' sweet, he get wrapped up like presents is
catch him in the mist where the exit is distant
talk slick, get hissed on like my clips reptilian instinct
I swing on flow like im boxin' with spirits
deliver pain in a sentence, yall just talk interference
im barbaric, no clearance, burn flags like appearance
of the devil in flesh, makin' hell seem coherent
swallowin' stress, I digest bullets and curses
I preach verses like hearses, ride slow in reverses
this ain' rap, its a dismemberment doctrine
black trench coat like im leadin' revoltin' options
glocks in both palms like a symmetrical psalm
turn a pastor to a pawn, then I baptize his mom
trench lines marked in chalk, I draw war from the dawn
I aint lyrical, im literal, cut through chest and beyond

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About the Artist

wasp
Member since October 18 2023

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