Yeah - Godfather Don

Dead and stinking, thinking of a master plan as the phlegm

Exits.

You’re next if my TEC’s is lifeless like it’s

A male form of sepsis, corrosive agents, fatal when

Flagrant, but most is jaded, faded, never

However, the ill pitch-forkers of New Yorker

So I still stalk ya, hunt and kill hawkers

Check it.

My postular’s globular and quite o-

-minous, bombing dysentery from your O’s accomplished if

The gore flying yours, lying dead on the pavement

Mind for enslavement be coming with the lame shit

Nigga, surgery’s deserved from me.

I start slicing nice and

Smooth and I’ve improved to create mental emergencies

Remains charred, barred to make lard and discard it

I may peep my calm shit, but my god gets retarded if I

Blast-feed ‘em, the last scene’ll be me upon

The altar—ha!—so I’ll refuse to falter

The succubus longs to fuck you—just bring the ruckus

Stuck with a dagger of the finest up your tookus

Colons hemorrhaging while I’m imaging some mutagen

Decapitated cadavers the penalty for you to sin.

When

I get cryptic, I’ll rip shit and don’t front

I’ll have you hung, drawn—a quarter the beef is what you want

Yeah

Tonight, y’all, but letters dead is my only issue

The killer crystal wishing that you would pull out your pistol.

With you

I smell, melding the bullet into pellets

Well, it’s the ill fucker getting zealous when I tell it

This particular vehicular lyrical style piles

Files full of blacktop, and your crack shot.

While I

Mack, my bitch named Gomorrah brings the horror

‘Til your face emaciated from some of the basics

Face it: I’ll take it in a second.

Praise God

Allah, no stars are left, but I’m mic-checking my style

Will turn to burn like with the

Paranormal.

It’s in the mental, but I’m on ya

Up the consequences, my mind condenses as the

Rhyme commences to pathologically remove anti-

-bodies.

You lie defenseless as my corrupt orga-

-nism squisms.

Yo, they got you in a prison

Now you, punk.

I own your whole soul

And got your god sucking six dicks on the whole, so

Oh no he didn’t.

You’re smitten, catatonic

My phonics could never be wack like Supersonic

The bubonic plague of plagiary from my cap will cap-

-size, attack your black eyes.

In fact, my gat cries

For me to use a, expect

The wreck to come from down under in the sewer

Yeah

Alarmed as I embalm your carcass in the darkness

I spark cess while you spit atoms

Back to recital, gristle makes the spittle just

A little insalubrious like sampling disc

Enter me, piss, boy, through disorders organs

On men, I’m causing by orthosis but in higher doses

Many cc’s have to see me for me to be

Décor.

I’ll call up on the Lord to make emcees see

The weedwhacker must have been laced with clacker ‘cause

My rap emit emissions, spun on more kids that’s wishing that my

Demonic phonics don’t sonically reach potential

Allow me to reach men who can’t relate.

The gates

We bend through detects death, psychosomatic

Fits my ammo, rancid mirages of my demo

As the Earth turns, the words burns ‘em in the

Administering enemas, then I’ma bend your logic to the

Point of no return in the ways of labyrinths

F a fag what matters

Since.

Splatter your matter dead-center habit into

Gluttons.

You’re trying to rap, but you ain’t saying nothing

Yeah