FOLKLORE

[Verse]
Pound of the doja on the counter top I'm lookin' round
Criminals are now right in my city and my own surround
What did you think you could do in the vacinity that I watered and then found
I'm a bad apple, core rotten, help the help and fuck your vows
Righteous by a djinn-soaked round, bullet to my damn broke brain around the world in a twisted infant instant
Born to die justly pestilincense
I got an oath in my throat, but it's lined with a horned goat
Double throw into the tropes, folklore tellin me I'm motherfuckin' hope
Yeah, Scriptz
I got an oath in my throat, but it's lined with a horned goat
Double throw into the tropes, folklore tellin me I'm motherfuckin' hope
Incarnate, my bills are golden tarnished
I write a judging to this realm with dread, hatred and carnage
I'm mason sate with damage, rough fuck it till its branded
I'm rising to the motherfuckin' ilk you phoneline pounded
They can't save you your death is founded by a destiny that starts at cause
God upstairs weaving the fates with bloodied torn-up cheesecake cloth
I dont think you want to do it anymore it's tearing at skin and it's tearing at soul
I'm another chained-weight that you saw, shoulders now lined with a purpose called
Scriptz