Visceral Literal

[Louis Talking] You son of a bitch.. Grimey fuck.. .. [Louis Rapping] I hate you from the bottom of my heart Smart talkin' bitch, rap-pseudo intellectual chit chat You don't have to ?wear a thought or peer at all? When I heave a big axe at the back of your neck and head And tear it off, soft, silly putty bullshit I live to strip the flesh from off your bones, holmes Homegrown slasher flick, spill the blood of pacifists Kill your cousin and your kids, violent, nihilist Stab your weak ass DJ wit' a stylus, right up in his eyelids Never, never, ever sever ties Unless it's severing the spine from the nerve-endings of a clever guy Runnin' from a cop car, clothes soaked in the blood of pop stars Murdering is not hard! It's only hard not to murder! Cause women just look sexier, when they're chopped to burger.. Sliced down to size 'til it resembles anorexia What chick wouldn't want a naked killer standin' next to her? I guess it's just, guess it's just, probably it's, obvious My hobby is, slayings of the sloppiest degree! I'm an ominous disease or a gift from God Eating people is a job, dining on a human shish kebab With a slob's mannerisms, I'm still wearin' lunch From yesterday on my shirt, at my Sunday mornin' brunch Old folks havin' aneurysms, when I hunt On the news, women found with blunt Objects jammed up in their cunt We interrupt this broadcast for a special newsflash Today I stuck a shotgun up this broad's ass (blam!) Back to you Tom, bad news, reporting live Following a serpentine blood trail at the murder scene Back to your regular program Of bludgeonin' yuppies with their cellular phone then Carvin' a grown man, down to the shape of a child Now find the outline and save it a while I got a sentiment for dismemberment And enjoy scrawling letters in blood with poor penmanship I'm like dismember, disembowel, disavow Show up at the precinct, and ask is this allowed With a gouge in my forehead Shaped like a crescent moon and star And a shirt that says "I kill for Allahu Akbar" So I'm only doin' God's work Waitin' for some unaware, under aged chicks outside a concert The monster, who strikes like clockwork Guerrilla, serial killer, fuckin' stiff chicks until my cock hurts I'm a terrorist, heavenless, specialist, pessimist Ever since my dog started sendin' mixed messages Chicks with big breastsesses, started turnin' up dead Found on an altar with altered measurements Effortless precision, sharp knife management Executed by the champion of killin' transients *Drums play until end*