Quill Cypher

I'll choke out ya spirit for a soul that I can sell
To the devil, heavy metal rebel soldiers down in hell
El Bandito ready while you others destined to fail
Like unborn contenders in your reproductive cells

I roast the mic just to leave you mentally damaged
Shut you off like you had a microchip implanted
Understand it, murderous, psychotic habits
You call it genocide, I call it target practice

Death is on overtime, message from the black-ops
Said I need to chill out, written in caps lock
Never take my mask off, when I blast shots
I got the grim reaper working his bony ass off

You outdated, like despicable gimmicks
My lyrics exhibit's endurance, push it to the limit
And I'll spit a 16 to end you in less than a minute
'til I'm apprehended by the men in black for questioning