Last Moon

Intro:

- Remember, on the eve of the next full moon!
- He was a ghoul, a necromaniac, a defiler of the dead, but he had not yet turned his sickness on a living victim, it was only a matter of time until he did it

Verse:

Old folklore, mixin' the cauldron with the boat ore
The ready season bloat corpse
CDr covers is buildin’ snow forts
My vinyl that's only sold behind the dope stores (Freaky, bro)
No Krillons, switch burner, witch burner
Gravedigger, ditch turner, the shit's burger (Man)
Copycat sick murders, I’m a quick learner
Used to pick out the disc burner, and tape over raps, like a brick worker
I'm sick o' rhymes, chop wax like bricks to dimes
Off the new brew note megali
Thrift tease over Volos, pipe moss packed with Frodo
Tri-polar on a train on the whole dolo (Hehehe)
Push hour bloom
Wap punches like jail fights in shower shoes
The only drill I know is power tools
Type odd, sharp like odd job, not Pac (Nah)
I'm more like Psyche Prog Rock
In spores I ate a cult, Mel Mac (Hmm!)
I just walked through a lava wall and watched my skin melt black
Cutthroat, shotgun cross-bred with the pub notes
Able to punch holes to stucco
Kill you in the winter
Just to see my reflection on your blood froze

Outro:

Look out there, each of those fires, is a different drive, before two new moons, all of them will be at my mercy, knowin' I kept position and power, admired the weapon