Hand Woven Catastrophe Overly Attached to Beats

(Verse 1)

I am a nightmare walkin’, this…Psychopath talkin’ shit/
…Tacti-cal depletion season, scary! Stalkin’ bitch-
…Massive balls the reason he is very often prick/
…Vagi-nal secretion demon, rarely softened dick-
Enemy of Venom & web slinger in comic book…Respect lingers/
With non left-wingers & mess bringers not the good…Dead ringer, too-
I’m a crook…Whether with Heca Click or any others…Plenty brotha’s/
Know that fatso drops heavy…Not ready them skinny fuckers!-
…All varieties put eyes to ‘C’…Might it be how I/
Drive the heat? Survive & eat…Too live & these lackluster wack busters-
Can’t Steal shine from me! Sack tuggers act rougher…Better quit/
Evident you ALL suck AND swallow, never spit clever shit!-
Lettin’ this down rookie try this…He can freestyle, now could he write it?/
How good recited? “WACK!” Now him and the sound bully fightin’-
Coach Carnage compared with the best…Broke arms & I’m tearin’ ya’ flesh/
For spittin’ your written’s like you got no heart & ya’ wearin’ a dress-

(CHORUS)

…Majority…No…Each and EVERY/
Rap released…Nothing short of thee status-ing of-
Masterpiece…Immorally…Hand-woven/
Catastrophe tapestry orally attached to beats-
…Historically…Shown…Each and every/
Rap released…Nothing short of thee status-ing of-
Masterpiece…Immorally…Hand-woven/
Catastrophe tapestry orally attached to beats-

(Verse 2)

Allow nigga...Make crowd shout…Out-wigger…Hey, loudmouth!/
Route rigger, how it a git fly? Diff I from maggot average…Higher sick mass-
Classic acid fire it’s that…Some slobber shed, whiper/
Come copperhead viper…Redrum dropper strike yer, bitch ass!-
…Lurkin’ bash-waxer…Observin’ that factor/
Word is draft master is more than a nerd & fast rapper braggin’ boastin’-
Gag & choke when I craft a focused magnum opus/
To smash opponents, friends, plus ANYONE perceived hotter at the moment!-
…Came to in-crease murder rate…Time to re-treat…Bellicose & bane/
In-credible the pain when…Game begins he serves a fake-
…Swallow ‘em whole, grin…Bottle the soul, then…Strain the skin re-gurgitate/
Minus thee meat…Skeletal arrangement-
…Murdering gits a win…Make shit of 'em sit 'em in chitterlins/
My widdling rhythm is further be-littling little men…Hit 'em & won't run-
So dumb! No un-shrivelin’…Grow some, don't front! You feminine!/
Said you tote gun, wrote one…But got no proof like Eminem!-