This is a song about "Fury"

Mors westford on a nigga with my axes of fury

And a nose full of chowder, he's choppin' up all the doubters see

Do you think i'm out of my mind with this tape

Fury freights work of hate onto jury's wait

I just want somebody i can see

Pray to the based god you don't catch the fury/

They say they want the fury but they dont know where it hides,

Why these broads hear my late call, start rushin' over runnin' lights

And we way too young to know love, maybe not but we don't need no rush

My battle bars thats what fury is, shit will make you delirious

Fresh to death, when i step, you can hear momma's cry

Like a crimson tide i let the fury fly

Either hell hath no fury or an eagle takes its place/

But you never come when you period is five days