Psycho Maestro. Straight-Up VooDoo.

Here's my lyrics and a highlighter, ya rhyme biter/

my line's flyer, you might be a sky writer,.../

but I'm higher, expire in fire, die squire/

cause I'm cire, flip it backwards, thats my title/

Wicked pastor with my bible, spittin faster than my rifle/

Sickest bastard, leave signs vital, my spittin' factor is high rivaled/

You little fags are swine, I go,.... take you to the butcher shop/

Cut off your feet, for meat to eat, taste you, baste you, then I cook your bod/

What a treat, for me, to see your face,fool, ...as it took it off/

Put it on, then I took your mom, raped her, staked her, now this crook is gone/

Off for another killing spree, will it be, his sickest scene?/

In your fricking dreams! I be ripping teens, like a fat kid, laughin, splittin seams/

I'm under your mattress, bastids, nappin', challenge me?your gaspin'/

I'm a dragon, savage and ravenous, spittin' fire, don't battle this,/

Cause I'll grab a clip and blast for kicks,snatch your trick and slap a bitch/

Got black magic spit for your whack faggot cliques/

You'll get your asses kicked, if you rap back at this/

Have fun trying to top that ninjas.

 I'm a wicked wiccan wizard, So cold, I spit a friggin blizzard, licking bitches quick as lizards.