Rage Against The Meatball Machine

I spit with a slit throat, stitched from the devil’s belt Hung by a noose made of feelings, I ain’t ever felt My words ain’t clever stealth, they’re blunt force trauma Shit so loud it slaps the teeth out ya baby mama I baptize in swamp slime, piss in the holy grail Tie a priest to a roach clip, light him up, inhale Murder every parable, piss where your idols kneel Feed your favorite rapper’s tongue to him just to seal the deal This ain’t art, it’s war in a cracked-out cathedral With choir girls chantin’ in tongues, in an inverted steeple Your shit’s feeble, I get banned in more nations than flags Your crew’s softer than hugs from your absentee dad They fed me corpses in a cage, now I paint with blood Turn your mixtape release party to a dismemberment flood I slit wrists on stage, let ‘em drip on the beat Then rub the crowd’s nose in it like a dog in heat I don’t rap, I exorcise, demon in each line I pulverize your bones to angel dust and snorted the spine This is vomit in your speaker, plague in the wax Your shit’s weak like soy boy threats and asthma attacks I tear teeth without the use of pens, blindfolded and grinning Your girl moaned my verse in her sleep, called it sinning My shit’ll haunt your fridge, your crib, your chromosomes Burn your label down, then shit on your bones You don’t spit, you hiccup in a padded cell While I rip limbs off beats and auction ’em off in hell Fuck diplomacy,I throw a molotov at your set Then write rhymes in the dirt with the blood of your favorite pet This that Battle Cat rap with rabies in its jaw Weak emcees get injured like they’re Cringer with their claws ripped from their paws No mercy left, just bodybags full of truth My lyrics liquify whole crews, break ‘em down into soup I don’t do hooks, I do meat hooks, and leave ’em hangin’ Ripped clothes, cracked knuckles, and an undead army still bangin’ I’m the itch in your ego, the knife in your throat Erasin’ all hope like lost at sea in a rowboat with an, “eat me shark logo.” Every verse is a curse, every line’s a desecration My new occupation is runnin’ a back-alley organ donation I shit on your demo, wipe my ass with your co-sign I’ll uppercut your gut till you spit out your stomach line Your “raps” look like a sixth-grade chalkboard in detention Mine looks like blood drenched henchmen from another dimension with a Red Dead Redemption I fuck your brand’s buzz up with one grimy sentence Then dance on your corpse like it’s a performance attendance This ain’t music, it’s court evidence in disguise A never endin’ death sentence with a voice that never dies Your whole crew’s only one hit away from YouTube shame I’m the reason your dead souls cry the blues when they hear my name I chew on shattered halos, and cough up disaster Then tag your mother’s church with a sack of biohazard I don’t drop tracks, I detonate confessionals Rip a liver out the beat, and name it Unprofessional This ain’t rap, it’s blasphemy in leather skin Buried a critic alive just to see them squirm within I spit lead paint, make bitch asses hallucinate Your shit gets skipped like lunch trays in a prison state Fuck fame, fuck clout, fuck being polite This is outlaw scripture with a jagged blood soaked knife I spit truth like battery acid through a megaphone And carve your crew’s name in a headstone made of broken bones Ain’t a label touchin’ this, ain’t a country left I’m the sound of a war crime smilin’ in the face of death So go ‘head, play this verse in the Vatican halls And watch the Pope off himself by head buttin’ the walls.