Should be erased

[Celph Titled]
Eso, what up son? you know how the fuck we do, motherfuckin Demigodz
Motherfuckin Army of the Pharoahs
It's murder death kill playboy, ain't no safeties on
These microphones, ain't no motherfuckin silencers for this shit
Cause when we hold 'em...
We let this shit go off right in they're fuckin face (let 'em know)

[Celph Titled]
I'm always gettin a suntan on my gun hand cuz I keep the burner out
Ready to blaze scorchin lead at your fam
So when I give you a pound, it's really 4
Cuz the .45 defies gravity, liftin you off of the floor
Pick out your coffin decor maybe some marble and gold
And hope they write some nice words when they carvin your stone
"here lies a noble man who got brave stuck out his chest bone
Beef with Celph Titled now this grave is what he calls home"
Get your gall stone put in a jar in a lab
Even the coroner got sick and had to barf in a bag
Your boyfriend said you was a marvelous fag
And in drag thought you was God like the carpenter's dad
You said I wasn't rippin shit properly?
The magnitude of my gangsta is a motherfuckin scientific anomoly
With a strange collection of weapons I got a good assortment
Come close and ima cut you with a mercedes hood ornament

[Bridge]
Yo, you talkin loud homeboy we never heard of you
Put your little record out, nobody never heard of you
Went to your city, and they said they never heard of you
So we usin motherfuckin "Bars of Death" to murder you

[Hook]
[Esoteric]
It's murder death kill
[Celph Titled]
Or it's kill death murder
[Esoteric]
Celph push they wig back
[Celph Titled]
ES push it back further
[Esoteric]
You comin out your face?
[Celph Titled]
We handle beef to the bone marrow
[Esoteric]
No matter if it's Demigodz
[Celph Titled]
Or Army of the Pharoahs

[Esoteric]
We beheadin your heroes steady and ready, we're Eddie Guerrero
Theoretically your chance of deadin me: zero
Give up your petty dinero, you better be at your pedigree
We medically and poetically my machete is ready
Me men don't need to coast the homie Celph keep the gat close packed so
Shove it down your throat, make you bite the iron, man like you jacked Ghost
Bars of death
Connected like money fresh off the press
An old carcass left in the fetal position no people listen
Record spinnin but the needle is skippin
I never needed permission in sayin I don't believe in religion
I believe we're deep in a lethal evil tradition
I believe in murkin enemies with precision feedin the fish intestines of defeated G's in my vision
Your styles infantile seek out a pediatrician
Or be another emcee missin on the evenin edition

[Bridge]

[Hook]

Yea, DC, with the sinister track..