Shoot 'em up, do this pop, I'mma nuts, I'mma hot.
Hit these snots off in a strofe laughing at they duck,
And keepin' seeking these sneaky fences they gotta constructed.
All is hidden, from fluffy nits till rotten slut inna blood.
Little bit of a fit of a creep is not enough for Your trace.
The claim is brakin' a base pride drops wrinkles to lips and face.
Hey, where 'ave You came out inna faints. I just was playing.
From the other phase this phrase iz for You, cuz it's notta game.
You are notta fame, You are notta saint and blameless, insane.
Have You seen a soften and drained babe-shit? You're the same.
You are in stains as fully as clown painted ass-grimace.
Be You lady or male, genital face has no any grades.
You may say many delaying confess-phrases as though is lottery.
Gotta dropper-slices threats suppose bringing seas of blood,
but You look as droppings on a gaming-table. Get this shot, son of a slut's
been rotten at first verse's block. Hope You've got it in a lot.