This is a song about "Rip it"

And strangle you with that fucking leather jacket

It didn't help a bit, grab a razor let it rip

You fucking dead bitch chips, i'm on my fifth bag with your bitch ass

Then rip it out from under like a carpet and laugh

Spit it sick and rip it up, don't need your dang chain,

And i make music for the fuck of it, no fame

Don't believe me? then watch me empty out a full clip

It didn't help a bit, grab a razor let it rip

American dreaming, days of a heathen running up in your building at night

And proceed to rip apart this mic but i guess i could pass it off to the right

Ironic since my drive increased, my driver see the profit

Slit arms from the pits, leave a bit attached so i can tear to hear it rip

But i can rip it any style you want,you just acting wild lil punk

I do not know how that dead body got inside of my trunk

I'll tear my fucking hear out, rip it up, and then store it or,

I still got your letters laying in my dresser drawer