Perfect Storm

reekin’ of grass, leave ya beaten and scarred

feasibly some tweakin’ demon’s creepin’ deep in this heart

guarantee these sluts’ll scream before I nut then depart

smell blood leakin’ from these cunts and eat ‘em up like a shark

kickin’ back totin’ loaded gats, holster is my lad pack

strapped to these black adidas track dacks

stashin’ glad wrapped hash n mad cash stacks

my tracks’ll thrash ya brains like some post traumatic flashbacks

gacked off the whip n caps, spittin’ wicked raps

clickin’ macs, flippin’ chicken scratch into written tracks

grippin’ fat stacks, slingin’ sacks, whippin’ jacks with wiffle bats

villain’s back, sniffin’ fat hits off a strippers rack!

“Michael was created by a perfect alignment of interior and exterior factors gone violently wrong”

complainin’ sayin’ my raps are whiny and aggravated

try to outrhyme me, ya fags’d just get decapitaded

see that’s what happens, I’ll have ya fatally amputated

say that ya hate it and yet ya blatantly captivated

 

nah, scrap that slow shit, back with a flow switch

oh shit! tokin’ a spliff when I wrote this

no shit though, who the fuck didn’t know this?

cones roastin’ as I choke on the dope hits

sniff blow hits up my nose in psychosis

throat tastes shit from the smoke and the coke drips

known to leave hoes with they bones broken

clothes ripped, soaked in they own guts with they throat slit

makin’ a mess till the day of my death

blazin’ the cess as I’m takin’ ya breath

breakin’ ya flesh, I ain’t fakin’ these threats

aim to impress as this blade lays you to rest

best to surrender fore ya end up with a beretta

between ya eyes, like futurama

i’mma abruptly end ya

rendered fried from yesterday’s bender

 

“a perfect storm, if you will”