Decrepit

Intro:

Today he's finally, acting as a suggestion of his family's doctor, he's made an appointment to see a psychiatrist, and yet here on the threshold he hesitates, still battlin' himself, still, holdin' back, just going to a psychiatrist, is it really the right thing to do? Is boredom worth all this fuzz? Can a psychiatrist really help?

Suffocation, Sleepaway Camp shit, raw, no skin poppin', intravenous, powder form, yo

Verse:

Coked up pitchin' heat, Doc Gooden (Yeah)
I'm active, you already know (son!), what the cops couldn't (Yeah, yo)
In the back lot cookin'
I'm gettin' head from a head severed, so the top crooked (Yeah)
I'm raw uncut, eight millimeter snuff, these kids is stock footage
At the lock hoodie, how can I not put it (Umm)
Murder, the first time I did it, I was not lookin'
My own body of work is like a dead body at birth, she's not pushin'
At the stove top, you smell rocks cookin'
My product like Reagan on the strip, I let the whole block cook it
On my Shelley Duvall shit, I order Tourettes
Somebody cut up my check, legend
Runnin' deep in the crust o' cement, like Versace's blood on the steps
This for my aliens, on Earth visitors where Hell is
Opened well and drop gels in, I'mma drop EPs like Elvis
I'm your lord and leader, being drained alive in this leech pit with breeders
Me and my believers will chop down and smoke the savored seeder
Freezer ill but the pen is torch, spoon bendin' thoughts
Large pie, extra sauce (Whaaat?)
Spittin' blood like a hand when the tendons off
Plutonic blanket, pencil vein your ass, dead 'em all
I'm not gettin' caught, 'cause the latex gloves (what), will kill the prints like Fentanyl (Ahh...!)