Back Back to destroy every f**ing lyricist And leave their minds clouded like a motherf**er pessimist I'm a terrorist on other peoples beats If you step to me, I'll tag your toe but this ain't recess b**h Where's my Jesus piece? I'm making trophies out of demigods Put a clock on rap so ya can tell this time I'm blowing up Juggernaut making f*ggots quarrel like a jug of nuts And confuse b**hes like a bag of apricots So keep your fruity bars I'm turning heads and I'm snapping necks on other peoples instrumentals; So all ya' b**hes opposing are probably just jealous I'm busy derailing trains and leaving tracks on your face But If I'd say your name on a song; It'll make me a disgrace Like-You f** a lil' twist, 'am more like typhoons Still in this b**h without a DJ, A Hype man, a Mic Just a pad and pencil to verbalize my graphic designs: Pica**o on the rhyme I'm Optimus Prime on that third movie Don't give a f** whether I go at elites, or a bunch of newbies Who's got a problem? Who must I snack like my name was Scooby? Who's jealousy must I solve like a map without The Goonies? I put my life on the line, Lets play Russian Roulette My life is a poisoned box of chocolates; lets see what we get Right now I'm starring at the Grim Reapers dark silloette But that's the mirror so ya' outta think twice before you bet