Alright i put these verses up yesterday but it was shut down cause i called the piece Murdering Multies dont know why the title matters.
Probably jealous cause they cant write this tight whatever ive changed the title. Shutting a thread down cause of a title thats FUCKING BULLSHIT.
Got people on here calling a piece Untitled and that dont get shut down.
STUPID AS FUCK.
Verse 1:
My game is mental, i mame the pencils, which im holding
I maybe manic, but a crazy planet, i spit my flows in
What i write between the papers lines, will rape ya mind
But if you sue me for it, you best truely forfeit, before i break ya spine
Im a thug with a heart, to me love is a farce
My rhymes are treason, im the reason, for the blood in the park
Fuck jokes, i cut folks, for trainers mobiles, plus coats
I dont hurry my crimes, study my rhymes, you cant get enough dope
Yes im arrogant but back it up, lyrically im the top one
This aint a metaphor, i'll wet ya whore, physically with a shotgun
Too many motherfucking thoughts circling around my cerebral
I put strife on verses, life long curses, are hurtling down on my people
I choose to breath, killing myself with booze and weed
My book of chapters bleed, i'll look after my seed, before im excused to leave
Im gonna be painfully honest and tell you i gotta death wish
Maybe in time i could change that, but my insane raps, are all im left with
Hook:Murdering multies like a monster daily
Im looking at the sky screaming save me
No response comes so i blow my brains out
Every motherfucker knows my name now
Verse 2:
The date of my death etched in my weed smoke
The bait of my breath left for my enemies quotes
Black mind, white mind, what im reaching when i write rhymes
I put boots to plans, i aint superman, i dont ever fight crime
Family knowing i'll fail, one arrest away from going to jail
Sitting in a cell, wishing it was hell, im cold and im pale
A crow appears looks at me as he sits on my shoulder
It never fits, like a terrorist, when he spits on a soldier
Posses sporadic thoughts, an addicts corpse, appears now
The reaper comes, to eat the son, as im writing my tears down
Fuck that, there aint a sensitive bone in my body
Im afflicted and im stressing, addicted to depression, alone i aint sorry
I still pray that the devil left my mothers womb alone
Im writing tunes im stoned, i love the funeral home, put that on my tombstone
People still couldnt understand me if they read all of my songs
Just in case your wondering this is an illusion i was dead all along