Death Touch

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TY1

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Yeah, uh
Yeah, woke up early, had to clean the strap
The rap scene is wack, think I had a dream, I'm back
Saran wrap, Vaseline the pack
Load the .45, bet what's in this mag will lean your hat
I'm like a damn machine, hit you, rip through half your spleen
Flip you like a trampoline, pistol and some gasoline
Hands are dirty, kept it sturdy like I had a team
Dolo in this bitch, lettin' 30 out the magazine
First 48 ya, I'ma Norman Bates ya
Scorch and bake ya when I'm rhymin', I'm a force of nature
Orchestrate your disappearance, turn your corpse to vapor
Twin rail guns like Eraser, I'm Arnold Schwarzenegger
Hire out of town hitters, outsource your labor
Yeah, that shit'll cost you paper, but it's hard to trace ya
Catch you slippin' and it's penance for your poor behavior
Put that .40 on you have you prayin' to your Lord and Savior
I'm politickin' all sorts of favors
Fork and razor, doin' numbers like a corporate trader
When you young and gettin' paper, then they forced to cage ya
And it don't matter what you say, cause no remorse can save ya
Pistol cockin', bout to get it poppin
Drive by, spray your whip, and tell your bitch to hop in
That's what you get for all that shit you talkin
Crash your wake, smash the cake, run up and flip your coffin
Head or chest, you get to pick the option
Stash box to fit the glock in, hollow tips to stop him
Box him in in broad day, let's turn this shit to Gotham
I'm crossin' names off of lists, it's like I'm Christmas shoppin
Caution tape around the booth, it's time to fit your coffin
My words are worshiped as the truth, it's like religious doctrine
Kalashnikov will get to choppin', bout to hit your squadron
Cause once I'm clocked in, I'll be locked in like a missile droppin
Approachin' faster than a raptor, run up close and snatch ya
Souls get captured like the rapture, you don't know what's after
And you can think it's jokes and laughter till I close your chapter
Up close and personal, surgical, how I fold you backwards
I told you rappers, I'll expose you bastards
Explode the ratchet, watch your whole frontal lobe get splattered
And you can keep on actin' tough until your nose is shattered
Bones are scattered, body full of holes and all your clothes is tattered
Just a young aficionado tryin' to hit the lotto
Take a trip to Cabo, dreams of gettin' rich like Pablo
Three cars, a decoy, a couple whips to follow
Load the clips with hollow tips, them shits will hit like Drago
Brick of blanco in the bronco, pistol in the console
If shit gets hostile, hit your chest and make that bitch a pothole
Hit the throttle, livin' fast and can't forget the model
Bars over everything you haters, suck a dick and swallow

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