BABY COUNT DAT DOPE

[Excerpt from The Texas Chain Saw Massacre]
I just can't take no pleasure in killing
There's just some things you gotta do
Don't mean you have to like it

[Verse]
Blow my muthafuckin head off
Shotgun blastin like a melody
I been screamin to myself
I dont think nothings savin me
Flawda jits we ouchea wit them knives
Tote em blatantly
Blowin so much smoke
That you would think that we a factory
I can't lie to you, i probably fuckin hate yo ass
Got like 20 bars, turn that shit right into cash
Baby count dat dope
I gotta put it in a bag
Got some gasoline and all i need is a rag
Hang that stupid muthafucka from his fuckin feet
Got some parachute chord and a perfect tree
Always lookin down but i neva see mah feet
Blood money shinin, you know what its bout to be
Aye fuckin on yo hoe wit da blade
Spin yo fuckin block wit da rake
Skeletons boutta go insanе
I ain't celebratin but i got da cake
Baby count dat dopе wit da scale
Light my cigarette wit a flare
Baby count dat dope wit da scale
Clouds blowin out right into da air