Death [Interlude]

[Interlude] He's not the type that deserves hell (Who do you think does?) The worst people... the twisted and demented psychos who kill people for pleasure, the cannibals, the degenerate bastards that molest and torture little kids... kill babies, the Hitlers, the Pol Pots; those are the evil fucks that deserve to die-- not my nephew (What about you?) [Verse 1: MD] Off top, tryna make some history before my heart stop Mom's worried I'mma leave, and get my heart shot With my hoody up, I know we're living difficult indeed On this planet, death and taxes guaranteed So I shatter glass up on my face, pretty sure I'm not alone I know everybody's got a broken frame