When I show the deeds
The occupant laughs at me
He’s inside while I’m on the streets
But when I roll up killing mood
On the speakers 80s Killing Joke
Sounds like Nirvana Come As You Are
You’re sitting funny like cum up arse
When I roll up Kilmacud
With my hood up thinking
Kill him I could
I show the keys
Piss swamps their knees
Sweating like sinners around a priest
Who is the daddy now, bitch please
Winston Borstal Boy snookerball crease
Look he’s not deceased, king deseated
Of my potions your portion fittingly measly
Occupants back laned tasting breezy
Place is freezing, needs Febreezing
Eviction season, based on feeling don’t need no reason
Recourse for treason how mean I’m dealing
Fifty quid lowest potential ceiling
I’m the homeless maker
Society of no friends, backward Quaker
Star Baker how I’m burning skies
Quake speedrunner quick Niggurath baiter
Quaking boots how I’m DoomGuy.
Alchemisland 
Leave a comment