This is a song about "My rhymes are hot point a gun into ya asshole"

That's equivalent, to the poison in a cigarette

Hayden pulls out a gun and shoots himself point blank in the head

My rhymes so hot they make the saints sizzle

They just need convincing like malcolm little

I spit it like a loaded nine, pop

My bitches are wet my bitches are hot

Stop pretending like ya absurd words are sending a hot shipment,

Waiting on mom to bring me the aspirin from a trampoline jump

This is my point of view, a serial killers point of view.

The shit, you can mention me if anybody ask you

Should i point this gun at a nun for the sake of watching her run?

See i tried to spread the d, welcome to my run and gun

Family is all i need but indeed them too can run me right up a tree

Lyrical poetry, supposedly, my rhymes burst into a flame hopefully/

As ya look into my barrel,

Lady at the frank stand will