No Walking Alone

When I walk, the devil sits on my shoulder and talks.

Sometimes together we walk hand in hand, burn a man, when I'm 'ma demand Satan to murder a man I'm hating.

Music to my ears; Burning Man.

Acoustic sounds of an holistic egoistic mythic, tripping.

Man, when I'm ripping, I'm doing a hand-stand with a pencil in my hand, I'm standing on what's written.

If you ever compare my ripping to a soft kitten, mon frère, je vous huant like an evil spirit being commanded to do you wrong.

I'm 'ma burn this world down and I'm 'ma build a throne.

I'm getting Bob The Builder to fix it because I'm bitter lifted up on and upon seeing the devil.

You become enlisted spawn.

Now, I aim for the fame and the bitches.

Rearrange the frame and the pitches of frequency hitchers when I'm 'ma give you this gift of Scriptures.