Quoted By:
>The bags on the table ain't for weight, they for body parts
>Victim skin stretched across the wall, call it body art
>Bodies for the pile, bring 'em out stacked on a dolly cart
>Anybody out there ain't on drugs yet, they should prolly start
>This too real
>Talking 'bout your life's a movie when the party start
>But you ain't pick a genre, lil' bitch that wasn't hardly smart
>The script was shit, your third act really drags, the structure falls apart
>So here the fixer come, clipping limbs to serve 'em à la carte
>The horror show was so wack, you said you'd never go back
>But you standing over the stove talking 'bout you really know crack
>Crack is what a skull do, so if someone getting brain
>That mean it was nice to know you, the spinal fluid a go-to
>To thicken the pot, the clique out in the whip whipping the snot
>Out a submissive till he shit blood
>You thought they was dickin' a thot?
>You got your rap shit fucked up
>Matchstick tucked up under the tongue
>Pour the oil, smell the sulfur, then you run