(source)
My forte causes Humans to say he sounds demented, speeder weed scented. If I said it, I meant it. Bite my tongue for no-one. Call me evil, or unbelievable.
Clearly, I’m the triple beam dream. One thousand grams of uncut to the gut. It seems fucked up, the way I touched up the grill. Trying to play gorilla, when you ain’t no killer. The gat’s by your liver, your upper lip quiver. Get ready to die, tell God I said hi