I was Albert Eiensteins mind, I was Italy's fine wine
I was working with God when he defined time
I was there when the guns first let off
There when they cut King Charles head off
There when the CIA battled the crack
And the tradgedy and triumph of Jeranamo Pratt
Punch a faggot til his nose bleed heavy
Dead'em all then I escape in green chevy
I merk your wisdom, spit a dart at you to hurt your wisdom
Put you in the worst position in a turkish prison
Yeah... and my intention is to waste y'all
And cover your body with stitches like a baseball
I fucking lace y'all with the word of the sword
And leaving you bleeding in a ditch while you serving the lord
You deserve to be mauled by an army of bees
Just another faggot dead in his army fatigues
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