Evil Clutch

Verse 1:

Yo, yo, spot bygone's shoulder, bury the hatchet
The vibes had me feelin' like it was intake, on a ferry to Staten
Mountain Boom Bap, snap a shroom cap
Oppenheimer plume black, bad acid trip doom rap
You got no numbers under the belt (nah), like the tool scratched
My outer body seen between the Earth and the moon's gap
Space shooter like Zaxon, dream girl, Black Swan
Track on, rummin' cult from San Juan
Droppin' projects like demolition on public housing
Before the Gods molded me from mud and cut a mouth in

Interlude:

- I am a writer, and I write supernatural stories
- Wow, you got the right place to get inspiration, everything here is so, creepy
- Hahaha
- Don't joke about it, too much, these (?), are really cursed

Verse 2:

Emerald green skin, medical weeded android
Coughin' like General Grievous
Give machine guns to FDR enlisted members
Gettin' high from vapors off bodies in mid-December
Boobs chopped, clits dismembered
Got sick kids mentored, six are slittin' wrists that's tender (Ahhh)
Chain-mail span causin' maelstrom
Walk up on Christ with a nailgun
Red up seas like whale blood
Toast to heads severed, spillin' Ale suds
Punchlines lookin' like rails crushed
Crush lungs like stale blunts

Outro:

Guys like the Maniac are the (?) to rip off, you know, those creeps, guys like that really do exist outside, and it's so weird 'cause I get letters, with pictures from 13 year old kids, you know, with, you know, knives through their heads and