Candle Man

Progresso, yo, yo, Sicilian bull, ion Oxy
Drivin' a Volkswagen with the rack, body tied on top it
We homicidal type puppets (Yeah)
Most don't got a style like fuckwit
Fork vials pile up quick
Fly heads on some Mile High Club shit
I don't do punchlines (nah), my lines pile dry punches
All my smokers light up, I'm cuttin' arms off rappers
Holdin' a mic up, no impatient, I'm psyched up
Hits dropped to the bars like pullin' kites up
Fire bars like, arson at a nightclub
Fuck the covenant, red sufferin'
Wrote these bars (bars) over the lines of a cutter skin
Feet smell green like, weed butter sticks
Delete dead leaf mud gutter shit (Mud gutter shit)
Everyone tapped to the eyes (word)
I cut my own..... (End of Snippet)