Black clover records , Rhymesayers, push the person next to you, it feels good, maybe give em a hug, I can make weird noises, (Opus Grey?) makes em sound tight, and that's not anybody that I know scratching that

Look at me a white boy that isn’t expected to sell
Cause I'm the only rapper that is obsessed with himself
In fact fuck rap lately, I'll be a Scientologist before I find out where silly club tracks take me, Tom cruise, yeah he likes to lean with it, rock it, everybody disses me cause I talk different. Man that’s a stupid buzz kill, here's a groovy Rush still, you should chew and suck pills right before you swallow, smoke until you vomit, my name is Mac Lethal, it's supposed to be ironic. Smoking pot, cold beer, and taking naps is my weakness, I'll start a band with System of a Down, Snoop Dog, and Jesus, (Woo) So let me tell a version of my story cause these rappers are wack like 7:30 in the morning , as a matter of fact, any rap that's about how wack rap is, is fucking wack, chew on that (I suck)

What about these rappers acting like they're thugs, Man I hope they never try to take a gallon of my blood, there's a magic to buzz
You can't hear it, I’m practically unplugged, unsure of damn lyrics, it’s getting scary, bling bling is in the English dictionary, so thugs should probably eat a couple scoops of Ben & Jerry's, settle down read the Weetzie Bat series or something get a girlfriend and snuggle, fuck I don’t know

Heavenly creature my love will crack skin, I serenade you with the black winds, but leave me alone my broken angel, just leave with no trace, I'm in the cotton fields where a murder took place. Poltergeist sings like a choir full of dead crows, pretty kitty made me crucify her to my bed post, I was thinking she could ride in my corvette if she would watch Harry Potter with me

Wouldn't never gets to see me play, promoters still spell definitely with an A, so we play Portishead when we fuck, and I outline that body with an infrared beam, Trace a cryptic sketch my face and lips are pressed to the window pane watching all the Masons in distress, take a litmus test, tell em it's my skeleton that’s naked in the flesh, bundled and undressed, have a slug-fest , savage brawl , satin dolls grab rabbit's balls that are tattooed pink, blowing bubbles in my Jack-fruit drink I'm writing Pabst blue Ink, prose (or pros){as in pros and cons} of existentialism , choking necks or twisting with em, I've been making sure the idiots survive, Johnny Appleseed the soil till my lineage is launched. Tell Andy Warhol I disagree, I wanna make out with Beth Gibbons from Portishead
(Huh?)

I'm hard to read but I'm staying tangled in your hair, The camera flashing is the reason I ain't there. I got a filthy fucking angel in the side of my gun, I got a filthy fucking angel in the side of my gun it's fun. (Repeat 1 more time, while over it he says ) We're gonna introduce some screaming in this track Ya'll, it's gonna get a little different, but you love...or hate it, either way listen to it. Here we go

Before the ADHD made me act like I do , my Momma gave me purple Dimetapp for my flu, leather softener would soak in the cracks of my catchers glove, thinking how my coach was a has-been that never was. I heard Big Daddy Kane, and traded in my bratty batter stance for my big baggy pants, but there was no caddy bag or vans with grim sappy glance all the kids up on my sandlot were half-dead , then I calculate what everyone in Rap says, and come to find out there's more crack dealers than crack heads, I shot Andy Warhol with the feeling that you're boiling syringes, I need a little oil in my hinges, seeing gargoyles in my binges at the preppy bar, I shovel snow with Daddy's credit card, I melt it off in my Miami Vice Jacuzzi , this is so the Anti-Christ can use me, but don't lose girl , don't love me, the foreplay is passionate, now my shock-waves open door-ways and cabinets, capture the low wind extravagant moans Ya'll, I swirl rain clouds with a hatchet and bone saw, cremate fame and smear ashes on stone walls, and hieroglyph for those who used to laugh at my phone calls , this is bigger than a camera-phone-photo-shoot on MySpace, I taste the pasta and egg-rolls, absinthe, cocaine, vodka and Red bull, they swallow the heads whole and pocket the dead souls, I sold mine with my first hobby, in America McDonald's is our opening and church lobbies , it's takes a man like you to be a father, it takes a superman like me to walk on water, I finally broke out, I'm coming back for prisoners
Fuck me, and fuck the average listener, COME ON

I'm hard to read but I'm staying tangled in your hair, The camera flashing is the reason I ain't there, I got a filthy fucking angel in the side of my gun, It's fun. I'm hard to read but I'm staying tangled in your hair, The camera flashing is the reason I ain't there, I got a, I got a, filthy fucking angel in the side of my gun

You gotta know that, another day's coming, after this one dies
Know that, Know that another day's coming after this one dies
A black sun, a black bleeding Moon

{Mostly Unintelligible till the end.}