chop you up in pieces like a motherfuckin martyr I'm the author of demise you don't know me what's the problem all you bitches keeping something on your chest come get it off then. im like why I'm so sick inside my head might need the doctor. I just need a way for me to make a honest dollar cuz I'm smart enough to know the shit I do is gonna put me in a coffin grab my chopper from the homie then i make it get to coughin if try an step to me bet you my life im steppin harder I aint never gave a shit my whole mother fuckin life got nothing but some pocket lint inside my pocket not a mother fuccin dime. im out robbin im a villian out my mother fuckin mind i hope my victims understand that im just tryna survive. put them bustas in trunk an do with em what i want the shit ive done it makes me think that i might be the devils son Im gonna die. No matter what Matter of time Til ithen i give no fucks think its a game but bitch you playing with a muderer