[Verse]
It took me a while to figure out the devil ain't a person
Or at least it ain't the body, but it's what's inside it lurkin'
Remember that when you go home tonight and fight your urges
And think about the fact that you still breathe, but don't deserve it
I thank the future me for the wife that isn't my ex
Yeah, this one goes out to the bitches who fight to get their respect
I'd ask a feminist if she'd like some dick, but instead I just whip out the dirty dagger and slice her shit at the neck
Woke up from a dream last night that I got some head
Look up and see Ocasio-Cortez tied to the bed
Lift the body up over my shoulder, right by the legs, and the muthafucka slipped outta my grip, call it drop dead
Supergiant, interstellar like 2014
Got a dungeon with a countless amount of helots performing Meg Thee Stallion in the cellar, and Tory have 'em
Shoot at the bitch feet while I tell her to dance for me
Run up on the Island Boys with a rifle, I got 'em in my sights
I'm thinking twice like, "The fuck am I doing?"
Not alright, I put the rifle down, pulled a camera out and I clicked record
I smacked the fuck out redd and then Kodiak, he just hit the floor
Goodfella, the father, Robert De Niro
Yac Wayans verbally torture fucking your earhole
In Los Angeles, walkin' around like a fuckin' weirdo
Knockin' on doors, askin' where I can find the Shapiros
Located the location, explosive device placed in the closet with coat hanger where no one can pin point it
Ten joints in, smokin' like a wildfire
Find where he reside and then we running in like power wires
Strap you up for a violent ride on the piledriver
Dressed up like the fucking Undertaker in some foul attire
Eyes rolling backward in satisfaction of thou demise
And shall arise a spirit transcended through to the outer skies
Ayy, fuck around and make me bury you, then try and find the six muthafuckas that care to carry you
The irony, Paul Bearer, position unbearable
Got me at yo' funeral like, "I thought I was terrible"
Unmerited tongue terrorist tearing through apparel
Gun barrel smoking hysterically like a seraphim
Count derelict drag Dracula down the terror pit
And climb back up the stairs again, paler than our comparison