Yuh, I be out here slicing necks of these haters call me Sweeney Todd, In the alleyways, I’m the king, gettin’ rich like it’s a facade. Bitches whisper, but they can’t touch my grind, I’m flexin’ hard, choppin’ fools, leave ‘em all in a bind. Murder on the mic, I’m the butcher of the beat, Nothin’ but the heat, haters layin’ at my feet. You think you ballin’? Nah, you just a wannabe, Sweeney in the shadows, while you beggin’ for a plea. Chop, chop, let’s get it poppin’, No stoppin’ this train, motherfucker, I’m droppin’. With a blade so sharp, cuttin’ deep like my rhymes, You step to me, dog? You just wastin’ your time. Got a smile on my face, but I’m deadly as they come, You can try to flex, but I’m the real deal, bum. I’m the demon of Fleet Street, and I’m claimin’ my throne, Haters can’t handle it, they just moan and groan. In the game, I’m a beast, ain’t no timid little pup, Slice ‘em, dice ‘em, watch ‘em bleed—give it up! You talk a lot of trash, but can’t back it with skills, Sweeney’s in the house, servin’ up these chills. So keep your head low, don’t fuck with my grind, I’m the king of the cut, and I’m takin’ what’s mine. You think you’re tough? You just playin’ pretend, Sweeney Todd’s the name, this saga’ll never end. Bitches throw shade, but I’m shinin’ like a star, Step to the plate, but you know who’s the czar. With every lick of the blade, I’m risin’ to the top, Haters gonna hate, but my legacy won’t stop. Yuh, Sweeney Todd, man, I’m raisin’ the stakes, All these fuckin’ haters can feel the earthquakes. So if you’re steadfast and you think you can roll, Remember, I’m the butcher, and I’m takin’ your soul.