Butcher Smock

(Now if I were to sit here in a fit of anger and you saw me eating acid, if I were you I'd leave with all the equipment. That cranks it up even worse.) [snippet from a Hunter S. Thompson interview on why he does drugs]

Yeah, Owl Farm 2014. Tripper shit. Fear and Loathing, Las Vegas

My left hand catching tremors from delirium shell shock
Scratching shit to say
I'm metal like a crutch, shift my weight
I followed a girl home after I got off my shift today
See how I be switching page
When the reptilian's in the mist, I lift the K
Like ketamine dipped cigs, lift the flames
They imitate, I imagine like Mark David Chapman in a fit of rage
I'mma dip and scrape Earth to clone Mars after the spores shed
Punch force focus like a sensei but for the board set
He going ham I'm going bore's head
Apple gag ball, whore's head
Décor whore flesh
I'm where the tennis court is
Peace to Boris, acid stored in my back spitting boric
Occult historic, Father Divine, red robed, head of an oryx
I'mma spray up your house in a suit like I'm with Orkin
Hand to the Ouija board, I'mma write like I'm channeling orsin
I hunt down and hand gut game like an outdoorsman
Kick doors in like Biggie Smalls recordings
Playing door in a drug raid by law enforcement
I'm posted outside of your studio like a doorman
Rap Roger Corman
This is rap braggadocio, extreme gore, foreign
I'mma sink hole the Earth til everything falling
Blak Church falling

(But I was in no mood or condition to spend another week in Las Vegas. Not now. I had pushed my luck about as far as it was going to carry me in this town . . . all the way out to the edge. And now the weasels were closing in; I could smell the ugly brutes. Yes, it was definitely time to leave. My margin had shrunk to nothing.) [Excerpt from Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas by Hunter S. Thompson]