Cykic

HEY! Bart, Bart, it’s the False Prophet
Bat in my hand, switchblade in my pocket
Knock it off or I will get cykic
Freaks, ya’ll love one, and make ya ass like it
Some people said I’m not fit for society
But they say shit when they got their straight line in me
I’ll pick his brains and then I bought meat meal
He left his old glitter in the needle
Can’t you feel me? Depress wanna kill me
And just wanna drop me, girls tryna hug me
I sent my bedroom, shakin' and twitchin', yo
Screamin' and laughin' at ya, do as you know that I’m…
Prophet F, The Prophet Of Death
I eat ya ass up 'till there ain’t nothin' left
Who goes down? I hear screams of agony
Blood being shed, then it’s being fit
I can’t go to sleep, so I like to creep
Down to the bar, and get something to eat
It’s not like a grocery store, legs and arms
Large intestines, earring forms
Robin, robin, that in nascent
Thresh 'em, honey, just down for my accident
Imagination went down makes me allured of
And I’m getting cancelled as I’m staring at my people
Formaldehyde, homicide and suicide
I don’t give a shit! Know why? 'Cuz I’m…
Prophet F, the prophet is false
From the momma said I gave you dick in my balls
I don’t know
Good evening. Are we
Who’s the one? Who’s the one that’s mad?
The government that took everyday from my ass
He left mistaken, my meat I was spankin'
Eating toxic waste, WOAH! Damn, I like it
Sticking every Mary Jane, Wayne and Kelly
Tryna spray it at some massacre who’s still smelly
What? I don’t hear you, I throw it up my ear stew
And tryna pull the chest back on with super glue
Beast, Bart, po-li-tic
Forward, network, mental war
Forex sent the motherfucker’s down with it
Don’t take more shit, heed The False Prophet
Prophet F, The Prophet Of Death
I eat ya ass up 'till there ain’t nothin' left (X2)
Prophet F, the prophet is false
From the momma said I gave you dick in my balls (X2)
Prophet: Sing that shit, Bart
Bart: Once, twice, three times, The False Prophet