Hostile

ain't no battler, got hatred in every matter,

in an evil mannor, I write songs,

bitch im like kong king of this shit for so long

fucking piece of shit you’re retarded son

talentless bars to lure women in your Tardis bruv

and you can’t even mu-fucking harvest bruv

so what do we expect?

A layabout mumble rapper seeking quickest cheque

sportsmanship on deck I’m coming for ya neck

really hope ya know

we don’t play with sticks and stones

I’ll come break ya bones and leave bruises,

yeah like Chris Brown beat down on hoes in a cruise

step to me and you will lose

that’s self harm, may aswell cut your own arm

fucking bleed bitch go call for help

cause my rhymes peak you gonna go to hell

shot your own foot when you stepped to me

I took ya damn breath on the first bar I set

so spastic sit the fuck down or that’s ya neck

dump ya body in a swamp

won’t find ur fucking head.

and now It’s war,

corpses on the floor

bloodshed puddled in gaps of the floorboards,

and many dropped dead,

eye sockets emptied out,

next to decapitated all died in one pounce

best believe I was pissed and agitated,

never exaggerated

grabbed two machetes and cut rectangles

like sandwiches

and their life evaporated,

sedated then validated time of death

destined to die like each one of us be

I tore every fucking limb and intestine out of he

cooked his meat, left the rest of the flesh for vultures to eat