This is a song about "God of murder"

Lines-of-a-god, no replicated pod.

I'm a fucking walking paradox, no i'm not

I tell you your a slob, you get the scorn of god,

But now i got a problem with that little white rock

Accusation of being a felon cause i murder with my pack

Nigga, don't be nervous nigga, say somethin'; trust me guys, he can rap

Then it bunny hopped off my shoulder, now my conscience dead

And repurpose other versions of your murder bed

Ill murder all of you while your dick is inside, go ahead and sue

But i was plotting on you, i really wish that i'd have got to know you

Murder verses bursts of furnace heat

Now it'll cost you 30 racks to get a verse cheap

I steady the flow, ready to blow like snotty tissue

Nope i've never heard of of you but i wll murder you,