(Oh) uh, bless me, Father
'Cause I'm pretty sure that this is about to be a sin
Jesus Christ Superstar, son of God
Son of a bitch, whatcha want? (What you want?)
Jesus Christ Superstar, son of God
Son of a bitch, whatcha want? (Jesus Christ, uh)
Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ (yeah)
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus Christ (I feel like a superstar), Jesus Christ (you know)
(Okay, I got) Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ (I could fight the mess-)
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus Christ (I think I could fight)
(Okay) Jesus, Jesus (okay), Jesus, Jesus
I think I could fight the Messiah
Fighting fire with firefighters
I think I lost sight of desire
Eyelids wide open with the pliers
I think I got blood on my glovebox
I think I should run 'til my lungs stop
I think I have fun when that gun pops
I keep cash in my lunchbox
Jesus Christ superstar (superstar), son of God
Son of a bitch, whatcha want? (What the fuck?)
I think I got blood on my glovebox
I think I should run 'til my lungs stop
I think I have fun when that gun pops
I keep cash in my lunchbox
I got body parts in my freezer
Couple of hearts and a femur
Coffee black with no creamеr
Psychopath like I'm screaming
I could laugh for no reason
Eyеs roll back like a demon
All goes black, I don't see yea
Heart's elastic, no Sia
She orgasms on key, I
Sold my soul like no Kia
Burner phone like Nokia
Wouldn't wanna see ya
Wouldn't wanna be ya
Wouldn't wanna (brr, brr) onomatopoeia
Hacé mucho frío, spitting gringo lingo on the single
Imma keep it simple 'fore you ma'fuckers get ideas
You running like Adidas
I'll write your ass a verse
And then I'll show you where the beat is
I made it like I'm Yeezus
I'm crazier than he is
I'll take your ass to church
And show you what they're calling me it's
(Jesus) Jesus Christ Superstar, son of God
Son of a bitch, whatcha want? (What the fuck?)
Jesus Christ Superstar, son of God
Son of a bitch, whatcha (whatcha), whatcha (whatcha want? Fuck it)
Jesus Christ (superstar, son of God)
(Son of a bitch, whatcha want?)