So this is just something I initially wrote over Eminem's - 'Takin My Ball' beat when I first heard it. It's supposed to be just as dumb and random as the original. I wrote it out in about 15 minutes. Why it's simple as it is and means absolutely nothing.
Why I'm posting this here... I really don't know. Other than I'm bored as fuck right now and am waitin on the Fiance to get home with my desk. LOL.
So..
You chopped venison, I'm spitting venom,
lyrically assassinating, Tearing through denim,
like ten daring politicians
getting a gin and tonic enema
like it were a water sport..
aborting and slaughtering whores.
My intuition.. Or maybe just superstition
On another hunting expedition,
Search and Destory missions.
- a mere tradition
Then I get so demonic like I just smoked a pound of Dre's Chronic.
Holding you down with nothing but bobby, clothes, and safety pins
So psycotic. Got you thinkin I should be locked in a loony bin.
And from within my skin begins to crawl, my head starts to spin
All it takes is the sound of that violin just once
to fly off the handle and start
Morph-'in' into lecter, the hannibal.
mixed with the jackal equipped with some shackles.
only better cause of morphine drip, dripping onto my lips.
and maybe a little malcolm x, resurrected
with bananna clips and hollow tips.
But no gun. Yeah, I'm just that amaz-on.
Tackle ya just to hear those bones crackle, and-a
begin to de-skin you like an animal. Cutting you open like an apple,
dismembering body parts, a cannibal..
Like it was only a game of scrabble.
But its just me, a lethal scoundrel.
Who likes to bash assholes n cackle.
stash the left overs into a trash bin,
Splashing blood all over
and wearing the skin and ashes as an afghan.
Now its just searching for next of kin.
Continuing this life of sin. Such Fascination.
Trying to rape two, appearing, Britian twin apparitions.
Stickin quarts of suppositories combined with quartz
so far into there hindquarters for safekeeping
like it were a repository.
Bear in mind, its gonna take Nasa strafed with mortars and machine guns,
leaping and peeping into your ass-hole.
to find, sweep and export 'em.
Like abortion, Another form of population control.
That's just my role. Always on patrol.
Like putting bitches in Comas
and Santa giving bad kids coal.
I've got diplomas in taking hearts and souls.
What's that smell.
Just your body decomposition Aroma
dwelling and so filling it is,
with the air wearing oh so thin.