First I rise up out of the coffin, make some coffee then I start my day
Smoking weed and busting raps and making beats and getting paid
Shipping these orders out like crack, and cracking busters in the face
f** you stupid b**hes, theres no b**h up in my DNA
You can hear this oldschool wickedsh** from like eight blocks away
Swerving through the city in a hearse, up to the spot you stay
When you come out Ima dumb out, get my axe and chop away
Split you into sections, destined to a disrespectful grave
Take your body parts out to a field and let you rot in peace
Flies get to buzzing in my head, when I even think about the rotten meat
I stop before I leave
I take my time arranging your remains into a secret sacred circle, piece by piece
Ever since I could remember, I wanted to dismember
Everyone who even ever made me question their intentions
Depression ain't sh** when you got voices in your head
That tell you to rip your intestines out, and throw em over a bridge, next
That happened to me in real life, Dylan Ross, I really live this wickedsh**
It make no sense to me, if it only stem from fiction
I dont fit any description
Motherf** your G-O-D, I worship me, and Im on a mission with my own religion
I am the higher power, father final hour
He who worship the self preservation of Lila Fowler
Yeah, Im high as f**
This valley isnt sweet
All this milk is rotten, and the honey is sour
Dylan keep it living, murder rapping so extensive
Most offensive methods of dissection that I cannot mention
I dont give a f** about a thing if it dont give me presidents
Watch, as I mutilate the minds of these religious idiots
I come equipped with the shovels to be diggin yo grave