It’s Not Yours

Holocaust:
At night there is a thing known as torches’ lite
The colonial road
A wanted killer walk in the woods
A turning angel shown
For the memory keepers
An evil mind is shattered into million pieces
While bashed, saw him through out the cave
A man deals with the weakness
The glass butterfly, house attaches
Founder inside, a fish’s mouth
You approach us deep in the woods on the route
And behold a thousand ghost warriors standing out
The mermaid whispers at night
The listener has come a long way from death valley
Selling pictures of glass castles inside the eye
You are most likely to die
But the same castles broke in a way by the evening tide
Apothecary glass jar, inside is formaldehyde
Slow-burning the mind when the children cry
88 stiches
Spirits to El Marty Harty witches
A man is stuck to a mountain thinking about his sentence
You witness the graves
You threaten every each way but death
The giant owl is not asleep, it moves with cobwebs
Where a splinter becomes a thorn
Skin fit will die at dawn
There is a woman out at night who sings a nightingale song
In the lake there is the truth of a stone
We all eat soup
An Indian brave is sending his chief off in the forest aloof
Some catfish will escape your weight
The spider will live another day
I’m loaded on the carp heap
Death by the black plague (x3)

Bomshot:
When I zone out, I pull the chrome out
I blow your dome out
I’m a mad dog
I start to foam at the mouth
You better run and hide
When I got my gun inside
Call me firefly
Rap so iron side
Let the musket squeeze
That could make custom bleed
Your faith couldn’t measure the weight of a mustard seed
I’m on some next shit
I throw you in a death grip
Leave your neck slit and your motherfucking head split
My rhymes are full of truth
Living proof
Bulletproof
Wheezing through
Pull your tooth when I pull and shoot
I’m so evil
I rob my own people with the chrome eagle
Got more hammers than Home Depot
Since Christmas I been working in my hit list
I leave you dickless
I got shit sown like stitches
I beat you senseless
They need the record from your dentist
I’m living reckless
Give me the motherfucking death sentence
Chop your body up, it’ll be lots of fun
They’ll find you in a drain pipe like John Watson’s son
The final countdown
I turn your city to a ghost town
Kill 3 little pigs and blow your motherfucking house down
It’s a known sin
Your chest get blown in when the chrome spit
Turn you around in your own skin