This is a song about "Noxian guillotine"

Wrap his throat with knotted rope and hang him from the balcony

See a scar on her eye, boyfriend brutality

Lemme grab my chair, some rum then it's back to square one,

For fear of what you show them, reality is golden

From the cradle to the grave

In his body and face

The only thing he needs is a highfive. to the face.with a metal chair.

With a group of bitchs we're like fishes they got tendense to get wetter man you can drown in there

When i'm on it, on it like my job

And got a knife to my throat

My breath escapes up out my throat

Lifestyles of the young and the broke

And i've given up hope, i'm fashioning a rope,

I got that vicious flow, moncler winter coat

I sit in my chair and never make a peep

Um, wolf gang, that's the fucking clique