Verse 1:

Okay, let's start from the ending

You bitches pushed me to this

Man, I'm so over the edge

And I ain't talking 'bout no cliff

I'm talking feeling unstable resorting to violence

And as my tool of destruction: I'm shooting words out my lips

My words created from vengeance; more deadly than hollow tips

Weight of the world on my shoulders; my shoulders stacked up with chips

I'm taking aim at the suckas who sat there just spouting doubt

Silence you with the silencer that could rally a crowd

I'm dropping bombs on the Judas, proving that karma is ruthless

I can't eat pork, but I'll split you pigs open like oceans with Moses

I'm concentrated and focused

And in case you ain't noticed

My murderous rhythm won't end until I make the world notice

That I don't fit in the picture, don't give two shits 'bout your gram

Your tweets went over my head, so I guess I must understand

That your persona is fake, hiding in grass like a snake

Not showing your true intention as long as there's room to take

A bite out of the success

They tell me that they're impressed:

"Boy you the best in the game, we run with you fuck the rest"

They keep lying to my face, last week they hated my race

They love me now because I left and they can't keep up the pace

I have nobody to trust, tell me ain't that fucked up?

They stopped calling me a terrorist the day I blew up

I think that I've had enough; I'm sick and tired of waiting

For them to give me success, so I'ma go out and take it

My urge to kill is alive, my sympathy has died

And I'll gladly lock up my freedom to go through lyrical homicide


Chorus x2:

Sticks and stones may break my bones

But words can put me in a grave

Sound the alarm then take cover

Cuz bombs get dropped when this record gets played



Verse 2:

Can somebody line up every wanna-be rapper

Sit'em down and tell'em that Christmas this year is come early

Have'em pack up all their shit and then send them on vacation

My gift to you's early retirement rolled out on a gurney

Cuz honestly I'm so sick, of listening to the same shit

You wasted three minutes talking 'bout the way

Your Rolley tick

You keep a bag filled with cash stashed in the hood of your whip

You could've built up a city just from moving all those bricks

We heard it all homie, we heard it all homie

We heard it so much I could write your whole next album homie

It must be hard for you, I know

Trying to go through denial

You try to pedal your way out but your wheels stuck in the cycle

All your shit sounds recycled and it's about damn time

For me to clean up your act, cuz you all reading the same line

The same script, well I'm about to tear down the whole set

You walking a thin line and the bottom has no net

Bury you so deep your fans have no choice but forget

And if you try to come-back, well I'll end you

And that's no threat

This shit here's a promise

Man, I can't help being honest

When you're this fucking truthful

Then there's no need to be modest

If the truth hurts, then bleed

Cuz I predict like a prophet

Your apocalypse is coming and it's making me profit


Chorus x2