[Sample]
Mirror, mirror on the wall
Who the thinnest of them all?
Not you, Theodore!

[Verse 1: Kill Bill]
Watch me kill this shit, bitch I'm still legit
Twenty-two without a fuck to give about you chicken shits
Mister kill-a-lot, city of ash, I killed a pot
I can't tell what's real or not, boiling room with the chicken stock
Break 'em down to their enzymes, this shit's live
Exo music creatures in this bitch, we are the fifth kind
I told you motherfuckers, this about the fifth time
I do this music shit for me, 'cause face it, this shit's mine
I like your fuckin' style and that's because you bit mine
You swines salty, get up off the pig rinds
Crush, kill, destroy, don't give a fuck, skill deploy
You fuckin' suck, kill your boys, you gassed up, you fags suck
Vegito go fused with Captain Nemo flow, I
Done been bald, exhalin' chemo dro
[?] vision with your foresights been peephole slow
I sensed my time to shine and gripped it like a needle nose
Pliers set, gas fumes and lighter necks
Smoke this shit, ignite your chest, my devil's tryna buy a dress
And Yeezy-yeez, I don't buckle, got Vegita's knees
Gas and chain swangin', keep a burner just to keep the peace
And no Bunsen, catch me smokin' out your function
KubrixXx break these rappers off with somethin'
Bitch, I'm stuntin'
[Verse 2: Rav]
Make your mother's butt bleed, guess who's back, ho
KubrixXx, Kill Bill R-ti-ka ti-ka ti-ka-av, ho
Disconnect your disc, cassette, or vinyl
You're ticking at your spinal
[?] you've no eyeballs
Can't see me, bitch on the TV, bitch 'cause they label me as frightful
Aw, that Metal Slug gon X you out like a Skype call
Got these kids smokin' blunts, poppin' Vicos
Not listenin' to their folks, I guess it's my fault, aw
New kids on the block runnin' the playground, EXO
We run this bitch, it's sorta like a greyhound expo
Whenever you've kissed a girl, you've made out my ex ho
So that's my dick you taste, uh, that's my kids you taste, uh
Rav dumps his bitches in the c-section
I'm makin' hit after hit after hit like a weed session
Keep that grinder in the pocket of my hoodie
I'm at your funeral, about to spark another doobie, uh
You cannot move me, this is not a fuckin' movie
I'm rockin' baggy clothes because I'm pocketing an Uzi, uh
And they can't tell whether which the real me or just satire
But one thing they know for sure, I ain't no pacifier
Look, bitch, just pass the fire