This is a song about "Lead"

And baseheads stay dead, and people are ready to take lead,

The king of comedy heard everythin' that you said

Try not to lead her on

My sim card's the bomb

Millie on my neck, thumbin through that check

The last of a breed, that won't ask for the lead

As well as supper; then i'll rummage through her ruptured cunt

My love for music i trust she'll lead me out of dusk

That's equivalent, to the poison in a cigarette

I am setting a new theme make sure your watching this lead

You have a hound on a lead,

Y’all millhouse, blew y’all head

Man i feel like im made a lead

Lemonhead end up dead

Y'all test like professors, you can get ahead

Zeds fucking dead bullets made of lead