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(Intro)
Mbs
Y’all ain’t shit
Claiming Your shit is lit
Y’all got no heat
I’ll blow Y’all out like matchsticks
And fuck this Lighter Challenge
This is heat from Hell’s furnace, bitch!!!
(Verse)
Here’s the reason You didn’t
Hear My Voice since
It’s cause I was hidden in the evil
Part of Your conscience
The Devil’s pleading
‘Please reason with Your audience
Be reeling in a Milli sinning as My fucking offsprings’
Don’t be scared, come closer
I just want to burn some bread
Like Your toaster;
But cut Your heads with My Sonar
Then score more deaths than Ebola
A sun that gets paid
To emit fucking death rays
The kind of messed case
To arrive with a First Aid;
Slice Your Brains with, Knives
Then take Your, Mind
Your Babes with, rhymes insane
My Favourite games are laboured wordplays:
You kids spit shit
Speak with deep pits
Twist shit with sweet bits
But this G will still be
At the top of the weak
Like it’s freaking Sunday...
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