[Verse 1: The Therapist]
Walk into the booth with the bodybag
Blood everywhere dawg, you know I got that surgeon swag
Precision yo, yeah the flow is like a heated
When I spit, quick in seconds I just picked your life
What you think you know about The Therapist?
I'm six spill pills yeah, the flow is like medicine
When I let go yo they call me Smith & Wesson
Yeah, cross me dog, I leave bullets at your intersection
If I'm so wrong then where right at?
Holes in my hands, I be chillin' where Christ at
And I'm sorry for your misdirection
Young rap saviour, I'm Biggie skinny resurrection
Wrap me in the fold of them rubber bands
Fresh everywhere, yeah you know I'm like a hundred grand
If TP bad his bitch bad too
And if I come swag then she come swagu
And if a n***a ever try disrespectin'
Leave it to my crew cause murder is representin'
So n***a yo jus wave that flag up
SOL the nation, fake n***as pack yah bag up

[Verse 2: The Therapist]
Yo second verse
Givin' free rides, leave your body in the hearse
Keep it clean yeah but brother I'm trying
But lethal is the game so n***as gotta be dying
Obedience better than sacrifice
So the way I'm swaggin' yo I should stop killing right?
Wrong, see my demeanour ain't even right
Heavy ridin' with the nina, you can just keep it light
Bithes poppin' ecstacy pills
Mad fucked up just to perceive me still
You gotta be so ill, you gotta be so trill
To keep up with the master
Girls all over me they love pretty rasta
Eugh! I'm such a actor
Pretend that I love 'em, fuck 'em, and turn the camera
So yo where the values at?
Fuck you n***a, walk around with daggers in my back
So if you think I'm 'bout to slow down
You can fill up your boots clown
Ask a n***a why he got to act like this
Got mad vengeance so I got a AK to spray
So trust when I say it's OK
Cause I know y'all ain't even judge me to my face
N***a, just leave your place
Artist perfection is quick to erase
Young and wildin', on a violent island
TP skills is none to be rifled
Be stifled with lyrical rifles
Dropping haikus inside you
Make you cry to God for Salvation
I'm Jesus for y'all pacin'
Hate-makers can't taste my pacemaker
CD Sega, no Peace Player
90's n***a, leave no prisoners
In your home, these sinners
Ain't ready for my stinger
[Verse 3: haYze]
Wrote this at 4:00 something
My doctor say I need more sleep
I say fuck it, I'm puttin n***as 4 feet deep
And leave 2 feet to see if they can try to walk in 'em
But they can't fit in my shoes, that's like a baby in Timberlands
Look, heaven's for the timid, and the prison's for the tanned
Rap like Ive got both cards in one hand
Ain't about that 9 to 5 slaving for the man
Been Illmatic dawg, it ain't hard to tell
Stay Illmatic till they recognize the man
With this one mic spittin' that ether for the fans
More like cyanide when they hater inhale
Impales all his organs till one of them done failed
Word to Mike Ross, I ain't following suit
Gotta make it to the top, Reeboks won't do
Coming for the whole pot, won't settle for piece
Fuck your peace treaty raps, I'm an animal b
Yeah