Through yr eyes
I sense yr lies
As shredded meat
N off dead beat
Yr critic calls
Are critical
We’ll make u fall
N watch u crawl
We’ll pulverize
‘Til yr demise
The idea
U’re the masta
It’s an hurt game
Where u’ll get fame
It’s an hurt game
Where u get fame
Higher, Better
Faster, Stronger
Is what ya
Tend 2
Tell us, 2 do
Constantly told
2 hold normal
‘Til we get old
2 remain calm
What do we get
Just some bullets
2 shot ourselves
2 build our shell
As protection
Is what we need
2 keep passion
In bloom n seed
Some should’ve said
Dont be affraid
2 make a raid, 2 make a raid
We 2
Can soar
Yr throat
W/ our, Lies

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