This is a song about "Bath salts"

You fucking dead bitch chips, i'm on my fifth bag with your bitch ass

Like i chose to take that path but they got caught in a blood bath,

If it's wet enough i might just need a wine glass

We pull by, so we could spy, then leave a bloody bath

Chomping at your oxygen chords

I was framed, got the case of salts

I was framed, got the case of salts

We come through throbbing like thunder storms

You eat a dick like a fag on bath salts

And the headrest had to have about eight thorns

And three hours in the showers with the corpse

I was framed, got the case of salts

Was framed, got the case of salts

Mr. red carpet, i don't do awards