Seriously B., shit's finna be me and me enemies in this
bi-atch because mentally these heathens in need of Jesus
freak frequently when reading scenes I'm breeding, keep 'em pleading,
but no freeing from the grieving, leave 'em seething as I'm heating,
'cause I'm bleeding out my soul. Your boy's hot but flow so cold.
Lose control and I'm all on it, flaunt it. Daunted by my roll?
Dust flies off the unrolled scroll that laid hidden and unknown.
Don those spectacles you own, see the truth as it unfolds.
"Unto he hath said the Devil, 'Hence thou journey lies but thorns,
for forsaken be thou brethren, but through me ye be reborn.'"
Reincarnated, hated, frustrated, stripped naked, degraded, scorned,
and placed in places where no faces show embraces only horns.
It's been a battle since the rattle traveled from my hand to gravel.
Paddled if I tattled 'bout the getting fucked in shackles.
Now I'm striking atcha not to match ya, but to bash ya, wrack that ass up.
Pack the bags up. Wake the fags up! Rave's a quack, don't need no back up.
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