Stacking Corpses

Cats don't want to see me looking for the remote I blast them off screen like a game when you reload I jump through the TV, hook 'em with the steelo Attract the offbeam, insane with the repo I'm puffing Ls with the L of steel in my rear pocket And pop it in the crowd when I rock it Feeling dirty cause you wanna watch it Then feeling nerdy cause you wanna cop it Then hop the train when the wagon is attached to the back Then laugh at the assholes who backtrack For tracks I made back when I was wack Tell 'em, and give 'em hell when I sell 'em The fake fame cause I'll be the name that they're yelling As I gel with my felons in the hell cellar These new dudes want the 101 like de Vil Cruella I'm a good fella, I used to shine shoes Now I make tunes for dudes that snooze in the afternoons Yeah this is for my thinkers Not necessarily the type to wake up in the morning for the reefer Cats better smell the Folgers before I fold ya Like old clothes, get empty pockets and a broke nose I'm the equivalent to licking your elbows Or sniffing them pale rose or stripping on Melrose Cause I'm an impossible rush of identity Lending me my aesthetics for the credit of bettering me And as the fat lady sings, I'm still in the ring Stinging like a smack from your upbringing Tweet that, and let your homey see that They need a recap of the G that Knows where to draw the line like a G-strap And the proper place to put it is erase it Fuck boundaries, let your mind roam and lace it The rhyme zone is wasted on the cats getting basted With the straight edge retraced it, replaced it where I erased it Man you're fucking up my progress Cause you don't wanna admit you're falling off like a prom dress You're just a rhyming zombie who vomits embalming Went from romping pompous to common psalms I'm honest when I talk this, most vets have nothing left to promise But a nostalgia harvest for carcases Bargained by the targets that get split like wigs made of shag carpet Can't spark it with the marks that's a bad market Promising that this rap shite is a part of me I'm baptized in an army of sliced arteries And re-emerging as a spiritual virgin Lyrical purging, got both our pinnacles merged in Ventricle murking, might need a medical surgeon On our roster to get the monster's tentacles working The dark horsemen are marked by the corpses Endorsed by the damage we plan to set our course in Stacking corpses