Kill Yourself (Part II|Explicit)

They figured me a dead motherf**ker

Calling me james spleen

Without a cause of death

I be the reaper with the black hood on his head

Yung snow with the blood red sled

Puppet master

Bodies hanging on a thread motherf**ker

Got a grey blade tatted on my wrist

I don't really need to cut it anymore

And I don't really need a b***h

Let her rot in the hole

Months later she was found just a skull

She was missing all her bones

Got her headless skeleton hanging on my wall looking elegant

Black suede element

Packing blades

Lacking benjamins

Horns on my head looking like the tusks of a grey elephant

Looking for my medicine

Plucking the bud off of a nug

Roll it up in a blunt

Now I feel f**king dead again

Looking for a place to belong

So I say f**k god f**k the motherf**king president

Address the american residence

With just a knife and the help of a relative

Yeah that's lick loth

Both of us buried ruby da cherry under a criss crossed cross

Covered up with a little bit of moss

Looking like a glossed out yung jack frost

Paid the cost to be the boss

Now I ain't f**king dead but my life has been lost

Isn't it so convincing how I'm breathing down your neck

Junkies in the back loading up the tec

F**k her one time now I'm done

Homicide any time for the thrill

One

Two

Three

Four pills

You know a junkie can't afford to get ill

See me I don't f**k with you suckas

They call me the shooter like I play for rucker

Smokey on Friday they call me chris tucker

I swear on my life I don't f**k with you f**kers

uicide cock it back one time and I shoot it

Keep it low key always gotta keep it moving

B***hes be worried bout what I am doing

Cuz they love licky so much all because of my music

It's the mac with the gat

That goes click clack shoot a mother f**kers back

Brains go splat

No time for a rat ho