Blood on my hands.

I made a run for the hills as I swung some thunder of skill,

into action, interaction as he binned the cash in a trash can,

so I splashed fans eyelashes and had gadgets for thigh slashes,

life passes by with half a tie to show as I write a flow of

abnoxious rhymes saying you cocklick mine,

but that's logics prime as I've got a sick mind,

become intwind in my shrill shrine , distilling lines,

billing fines while drilling mines,

I'ma get mine even if I have to bet time,

 

(Chorus1)x2

 

There's blood on my hand's

from where nun's can't even understand,

even as I'm understanding,

 

I'm in hell trapped with no map in a thin cell,

looking to go back, but instead

I'm cooking toasted nerves roasting earth

closing a surge of power on the verge of bursting towers

or hurting cowards like mothers rembursing nurses for nuturing Howards

Sterns now tell me how it burns,

WOWEE!, OUCHEE!, shall we. turn concern to Urns,

I'm a starven carnivore you can't ignore cos it's already your arm that tore,

I'm on your farm at four wanting carve that jaw,

I wish there was a fast track law so all you half cracked whores

so you can see these Calfs snapped paws n wake up to reality,

fuck fucking fake sluts is what I do in each battle G.

and as my strategy I never involve nationality cos that

captions irrationality,

 

(chorus2)x2

There's blood on my hand's

from where nun's can't even understand,

even as I'm understanding,