Verse 1:

The dude's insane, you ever see him it's curtains
you'll rue the day you ever meet him in person
keeps it in churches, speaks to the people in sermons
messiah but the evilest version
I'm everything people just assume that I am
I make music for me and just a few of my fans
fuck you, your opinion and your musical taste
the shit is trash, I'll say it 'til I'm blue in the face
you'd rather listen to the music that'll ruin my day
to the point I regurgitate the food that I ate
the shit is gone with the quickness
I'm talking wack on the level of Mariah Carrey songs during Christmas
calm your mind, try and let it embrace fear
I know it's scary when your destiny ain't clear
notice the pitch fork and devilish grey beard
wearing the decapitated head of a reindeer
end of a strange year, time to recalibrate
lines that I activate are knives that decapitate
rhymes you can animate
still utterly in shock by the caliber of minds that I captivate
inevitable, unescapable doom
I suggest that you stay in your room until the day you improve
or wake up encased in a tomb
I'm not being hyperbolic I'm afraid that it's true

Chorus:

the guy's very odd
old school, traveled on a triceratops
look at him and find there's a god
you are not on his level, he is omnipotential
they canonize anything he jots with a pencil
clearly heavenly
sharper than the Spear of Destiny
embrace every modicum of fear and let it be
you are dying to survive
when it's useless struggling to fight it just to die

Verse 2:

I've embarked on a mission and there's no coming back
been dope as fuck, never wrote nothing wack
consistency is key, like a miracle, I keep
doing things you've never done with syllables on beats
I'm a cannibal, ridiculous indeed
my mom told me never get up until I finish what I eat
if you ever CROSS me I'll finish it with ease
you better LOOK BOTH WAYS when listening to me
verses are so ill
they'll practically turn you to ROADKILL
you'll DIE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET
stripping you of each hypocritical belief
thoughts reminiscent of a biblical disease
I am like a swarm of locusts when I storm on the battlefield
ready to force you to grab a shield
penetrate defenses, decimate your dedicated henchmen
attempting to escalate is senseless
welcome to my humble abode where I devastate intentions
dead humans decorate the entrance
Vlad the Impaler with an ax and a saber
blood face, standing on the back of a traitor
with a thirst for vengeance
utilizing cursed inventions to propagate the worst infections
transmitting thoughts, essentially cyanide
spread like a virus, I suggest that you try and hide

Chorus:

the guy's very odd
old school, traveled on a triceratops
look at him and find there's a god
you are not on his level, he is omnipotential
they canonize anything he jots with a pencil
clearly heavenly
sharper than the Spear of Destiny
embrace every modicum of fear and let it be
you are trying to survive
when it's useless struggling to fight it just to die