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[Verse 1]
What up?
Yo, I’m ready for a limo ride
Did you get the memo, guy?
I came to show these bimbos why
I always say the limit’s sky
Bump it up, let’s get those tempos high
I missed our date for a murder expo, knives
Guns, slayer axes, swords, and chainsaws
Anything in my arsenal I can use hack your brains off
As soon as this rocket takes off
Better put on your training bras
Cause I came straight up in this bitch
To cut your motherfucking dicks, scoff
I’ll leave your brains scattered
I’m a mean, lean, killing machine
A redder sight than the hair of Kayla, Peter, Ron Weasley, and Seth Green
If I had a nickel for every time I got approached by you sickos
I’d have enough in the bank for me to buy a fucking hippo
I’ll fix you into a pickle that none of you fucking dicks know
Isn’t it sick though? A rap engineer and rhymes are my gizmos
I’m fine when I freestyle, but you don’t wanna see when I’m pissed, yo
Enough power surging inside of me to cause death by tickle
I don’t care if you do rap, rock, indie, country, or disco
I’ll strangle you and drain your blood and sell it by the half pint
But that’s not Shalf Pinto
Straight-up ill enough to beat Tiger Woods in this golfing shit
A master out of place, bro, I’m like Walter White in a coughing fit
I’m perfect at this art-form and earned millions in wealth
And if you can’t accept that shit, then Robin Williams yourself

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