Akin to Brandon Lee in the crow
Nothing to lose homie
I'm gung-ho
Feel like three ten to Yuma
Russell Crowe
No one really know me homie
I'm a ghost
Production immaculate
Three crows
That's the culprit
Neurodivergent
My brain an arena
That's hard to quiet
Hella' Racket in my attic
Havin trouble
Tryna unpack it
Hella' judgement came from people like a pulpit
Washed my hands clean of these morons
Like Pontius Pilate
Retrieval of self
From the rubble of facade
Scrutiny came my way
More than any kind of applause
Feel like the chaperone for my own demise
These lyrics that I spit
Are not a disguise
Just another entity going through entropy
I am the black sheep
An after thought of everybody
Blast me
Don't ask me
Why you had to pass me off as a bad piece of work
I feel sadly
Non sympathetic
Fuck apologetic
Feelings are joke when you judge me as pathetic
Throw me for a loop
Think you know the truth
Try to make a claim against my mother fuckin' troop
Three fuckin' crows that flew the chicken coop
Hunting for a punk mother fucker on the stoop
This is just another crows anthem
Another mine waiting
Gaz and Dot had to plant um'
Lyrics are exploding from the brain
Hear the shrapnel
Mother fuckers try to talk shit then we nab um'
Lastly I don't give a fuck what happens
Leave me in a ditch dead in a dark casket
Call me crazy case
I'm a basket
Cause I don't give a fuck what you pussies gotta say
Ya I've mother fuckin' had it
Killer image drippin' from the top
Holes in my head
Black Ink in my skin
Images of the dead
Despite what you see
There's a mind of a G
Fuck it I'm a say it
G A Z
You be fucking with the realest
Matter of fact
Keep your two cents
Hold your breath
Don't forget to exhale
Better yet
Suck up the negative shit in your mouth
Choke on it
No way to let it all out
Maybe next time think before you feeling all stout
Motherfucker was an outlaw
Hands cuffed
Riding in the back of cop cars
Flip the script
Twelve years
Six figures
That's a trip
Life long mentors even had their doubts on
Your only enemy isn't me
Exquisitely said
I rose from the dead
With a corpse and my crows
Murderin' in the grove
When the fucking foes
Start droppin' to the floor
That's your cue to turn around and go
Fuck it
I wet you up
Thinking I won't
Conversations been had
And the judgement is doom
Cut myself from the womb
The fuck you thinking I do
Mother fuck you
And your punk friends too
Three crows cawin' at the bag filled with bad shit
8corpses slide out the back with the hatchet
Silly mother fuckers over the top
You're a spastic
Ain't no one killing shit the way we do
No open casket
Lend all my achievement to the man who not facetious
Passed the big three oh and never felt more like breathing
Can't fuck it up
Stand with no crutch
I never know when to give up
My site is set and definitely
The boys and me to the end
Three O D