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letra de immaculate son - rampage the misfit

[verse 1]

sick since birth i’m livin like a miscarriage
an unfixed infant who itchin to split like a sh-t marriage
contact full on—you act p-ssive aggressive
you in the presence of allah, wipe my palms after i smite your jaw
with the same hand that write these songs
money talks, you can’t interpret the script i translate it
i close your casket with the captions to you it’s a foreign language
birth of tragedy, a calamity of my definition
i body 16’s somebody bring a mortician
i spit at the critic that say i need more bangas
do me a favor stab yourself wit a wire hanga
i raise h-ll while fans raisin they hands
take it back to wen mc’s rocked rhymes not tight pants
i keep dwelling in the past thinking the future look horribly morbid
because these cats can’t catch my verses, let alone the chorus
they trying to put me in they small frame like a f-cking family portrait
but that would be a tight fit like a fat b-tch in a corset
you don’t’ wanna suffer trauma under the suicide bomba’
i’ll leave you bleeding internally
open you up like a nervous teen in surgery
i’ll let the wound heal then come back the next week
then put this in your larynx so i’m all that you speak
and when i say you weak i mean you can’t compete with wet cardboard
but i’ll have your wife leaking in the back of my honda accord
pull out a camcorder i prefer hardcore
bad manners, jackhammer sh-t, slam her car door
plaster the m-ssive d-ck in her armor
then i flip the script like we in parkour
cuz this game is gymnastics—
this is just training and practice
came from nothing but a blank canvas
put all i had into crafting it—
mixing it and mastering it
took my broken pieces and made masterpiece

[bridge]
meet the misfit, bag full of tricks and some riddalin
hypochondriac so i spit sick and leave no witnesses
deranged in the brain it’s a gift and curse
my sh-t bang, like the big bang cross the universe

[verse 2]

call me a lost kid sold my soul in an auction
f-cking up sh-t and blunt hits my primary function
but i no longer hide behind a disguise
planning my demise while puffing lye
right after i make these f-cking worlds collide
it’s the first track in and i’m blessing it
a force to be reckoned wit
i’m the worst mothaf-cka’ to be mentionin’
a depressed teen, 18, with all these expectations
who’s mentally sick, never giving a sh-t, i’m aggravated
i used to take the hits, now i lash out all my hatred
and if you ain’t feeling that i give myself a hand, m-st-rbation
so ask me where my heart is, the answer’s that i’m heartless
but i’m tired of falling in this darkness with no signs or options
i live lawless, the product of a failed abortion
i’ll stab you wit a swordfish for spitting garbage
you not hard, you claim you popping but really make pop hits
i leave you bleeding in the spirit of rapper season
god never answered my prayers so i made friends with demons
i’m sick of loading ammunition into these compositions
so all you nitwits who hating my favorite game russian roulette
i got two techs down your neck to blow out your last breath
give you the present of death and leave you past tense

- rampage the misfit

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