[Intro:]
*Actually, technically speaking he's, not really a murderer*
*He never killed anyone*
*He finds ways for his victims to kill themselves*
[Verse 1: Bomshot]
A rap phenomenon, I skin rappers and use 'em as pages in my rhymebook like the Necronomicon
Through each phase of time I vent these modes
Mathematically precise like The Da Vinci Code
I see celesial beings when I stare at the stars
I wonder how long [?] they built the pyramids on Mars
Dropping observations since birth the cops watched me
Giving lyrical lobotomies [?] autopsies
Area 51 is where they run mad experiments
f*ck around and give your ass an out-of-body experience
I need to fight, so when I squeeze the mic
It causes my rhymes to travel faster than the speed of light
You'll bleed tonight, best believe these shots hurt you
Leave my rhymes carved on your chest just like crop circles
Decapitations, how I took off the head
And you can still read about them in the Book of the Dead
[Hook: several samples and scratches]
Proceed with caution
Carrying heavy still
Pull out and load up the nine
Don't give a f*ck about nothing
[Verse 2: Jus Allah]
You can't handle it, you can't keep your candle lit
I'm a black amulet, you're a piece of camel sh*t
All you hear, is the hammer kick
All you see, is the [?] then camera clicks
Knock 'em down just as high as they can build 'em
The slavemaster just set me free and I still killed him
I'll f*ck his children, you know I got the best feeling
[?] f*cking feet to the ceiling
I try to stand back from the devil's [?]
Rival god in [?]
The blind don't walk on the street
In the jungle the lions don't talk to the sheep
Motherf*ckers is weak
I wanna f*cking laugh so bad, I suck on my cheeks
Ask Allah why I f*ck white b*tches
She ain't never seen a di*k over nine inches
[Hook]
[Verse 3: Evil Dead]
Sharper image, [?] when I sparks the blizzard
Talk is sniffing, y'all got my nostrils itching
Boston fitteds, long tees and Adidas
Rhyme for their kicks, car keys and they beep us
Jeepers creepers, street dreams and the savior
Sleep for three days and then I'll peep y'all on Easter ([?] Cristo)
Pleased to meet ya
Evil Dead breeze through your streets with the mean cleavers
[?] armed sneakers
Shower clock speakers and out the box heaters
You not to be confused with you lost cause schemers
Hotbox with rocks in the drop caught Beemers
Chop shop skeezers, geishas, [?]
Papi need to feed off the [?] the god reach ya
Talk is cheaper, to each day on, preach on
And who [?]
[Hook]