If Rhymes Could Kill

[Verse 1: Cyco & Em'Dee]
If rhymes could kill
If rhymes could kill
If rhymes could kill
If rhymes could kill they'd have this nigga strapped in a straightjacket
'Cause my lyrics chop like a chrome-plated hatchet
Got the death sentence, your repentance I'll never seek
Better treat this nigga with respect or be severed meat
'Cause I'll be on yo ass so quick you can't take a breather
So just smile and say hello to my meat cleavеr
See you later's what I said as his eyes got biggеr
Five seconds later that nigga knew he was gonna be chopped liver (Ugh)
If rhymes could kill I'd be up for murder
Mister Cyco caught for cooking human hamburgers
This album's called Grim Reality
Tell me have you seen a man cut from his nuts to his trash cavity (Yeah)
I'm frightening rappers with the lyrics I wrote
Turn up the god damn heat, I'm making a human roast
Terror raps, you know I love
Watching rappers simmer in the juices of my bathtub of ghost blood
Eyes shutting up, love killing
Ever since I was an infant I feel I was born to kill
So bring a high priest, pastor or a reverend
It doesn't matter 'cause they all going, except for heaven
To my arch of your terror, dare to scare a sucker
With the cuts my sinner lords prayer every verse
My blood boils with vigorous heat
Eyes get bloodshot
Evils open up when I'm loccing up

[Chorus: Cyco & Em'Dee]
It's the Cyco once again, kicking that dumb stuff
Don't try stepping 'cause you'll get that fucking throat cut
Angel of Death, bringing death, I'm a locc neck
Enter the clique, if you slip you get smoked slut
Manic depressive, keep a Smith & Wesson loaded hops
Psychotic lunatic, loving to go out shooting cops
Not fucking around, taking 'em down with my gang of slugs
I kept on jumping and watching 'em pumping up on gang or blood
Now back to the subject, don't tryna run up on a psycho G
I got Em'Dee, D.J. Streek, and the Nightbreed
Insane Poetry is swinging a hatchet like true slayers
As midnight strikes motherfucker say your prayers

[Verse 2: Cyco & Em'Dee]
I'm rapping this, I'm a hatchetest on the loose
Wringing the necks of rappers like I'm wringing the neck of a goose
Oopsie daisy and speaking of daisies, suckers are pushing up daisies 'cause the Cyco is crazier than a motherfucker
Trades back, no fuck that man, Cyco's a puppet master
Worse than jokers, when you're stuck I cut much faster
As blood squirting out of a hundred holes
I'm taking the skulls of weak rappers, breaking 'em off like cheap crackers
I said I was psycho so they stuck me inside a psychiatric ward for singing a sword
Many bodies straight forward into the morgue
The shadow warlord, but the ouija board killer came
Out of the dark, carrying a hatchet, dragging a chain
Spilling brains with the nine, this psycho's your executioner
Dropping lyrics so serial, figure anger who's with Lucifer punk
I'm killing my wicked psyche
Since rhymes could kill, shit, I gotta go, I got graves to dick

[Outro: Cyco]
Shit, come on man
Get this motherfucking body own there, right there
I got it
Shit, I got this leg, I got this arm
Hahahahaha
This motherfucker ain't over here
I got him
Aye, shit
Dig that motherfuckers grave man