Brooklyn Taylor - The Burial lyrics

[Verse 1: DP] The 12 gauge is in my range as I say my graces Only way to guard my food that the devil's craving Protect my plate by all means And if it all leads to vendetta got the Mac 10 in reach Machete up the arm sleeve For the Cretans displaying fake allegiance I slice 'em craft cheeses 'Cause I don't take kindly to treason That's what I get for leaving all these motherf**ers breathing Best believe it he's been a heathen since he was 3 That's why I see through the lies and the murder schemes I was alert you was last seen in hurst n***as never learn last beds made in the dirt My life was cursed n***a I was 4th grade takings milk up off my peers lunch trays I do it today I'm stuck in my ways I'm stuck in this maze And I can't get out Layin' in that coffin I can't get out Tombstone read he was the realest out [Verse 2: DP] When I was a baby 3 wiseman left a Mac 10 in my manger Said aim it at them haters that's plotting from shady angles And if you're able exposé these f*ggots of fables Untangle the lies that mangle they mind and vices they chained to Never was agenda'd to being an angel Sick of life from the jump I ripped that cord out my navel Then choked the nurse with that sh** Why they let him into the world to make it worse than it is Such a merciless kid I mean Osama in this b**h Sadaam up in this b**h I mean Cobain just k**ed his motherf**ing self Like f** wealth I'm here to live like a derelict until I Breathe my last breath I mean as quiet as it's kept I keep raspy like the throat strep Half a OZ of Caine in my Lo sweats I post bets against any n***a that wanna step You'll be left in roadside ditch