Genetic codes render me
A permanent fuck up
The only words from my mouth are
Blatant vulgar insults
Belligerent motherfucker
Beer drinker bitch slapper
In my hand I hold my weapon fucking
Made of malt liquor
A forty to the face
At high velocity
A forty to the face
At point blank range
I'll smack the taste
Out your fucking mouth
I won't use my hand
I'll use my 40 ounce
This lyric was posted anonymously. Not yet confirmed by Book of Metal.
