On the Prowl

[Mr. Hyde] I'm dressed to kill with the Glock and 38 on my waist line And merkin you to me will translate to a great time The guns that I hold oh man the money I mold If I don't get it then you better bet the gun'll explode The gun is aimin it your face you beater tear that shit up Forget blastin your gut make sure your casket is shut The black sheep of the bunch turning the weak into lunch Yo I'm hungry for your flesh like I ain't eaten in months Out to get with my axe and let it drag on your tan line Put hands in the box and stab the handle with cat signs I'll be in disguise ready to stick you with knives And leave your arms gross like Forrest Whitekers eyes Are you ready to die by this machette of mine? It takes just one strive for your head to divide Fuckin bludgeoned all night by my games of death The cops'll struggle to find where your remains are left They're underneath the weeds rotting in a gentle breeze Chillin with the flies beetles and the centipedes A distant memory your existence is gone You're on your way to the gates where you'll be visiting God [Hook] I'm on the prowl huntin for your head or your chest Leavin you dead like the rest I got a fetish for death I'm on the prowl son so you can run and evade It's all the same in the end you got a date with my blade(2x) [Mr. Hyde] It be the Children of Corn style the killa with sword I'll Unleash a plague of bees apon a billion a sworn pile Desolate drug supply the strength of my hug But when I catch you you're strung up by the flesh of their tongues Start avengin the script you'll be eventually ripped Tossed in pendulum pits until you stench of the crip You'll be hunted for days by thug with guns and grenades Fuckin punchin your face until you're sunk in the grave Blades are stuck in your brain laced and stuck in the lake You should've ducked when I sprayed son you're a fuckin disgrace Dirty legions on your grill plus excretions will be spilled Gory missions will be filled must relieve before you're killed My sinister inside drugged with hundreds of pills It's a minister midnight better run to the hills I'm leavin you diseased burning bullets get released Earth is sure to hear you screech like guitars of Judas Priest Next step you're check mated your vest is invaded The hollow tip shells your chest is seperated Your caught up in a mess of tortured long death From the depth more or less a corpse with torn flesh [Hook]