[Verse 2: Rozz Dyliams]
What the haps - Perhaps you ain't heard a Number One
Dylan the murder man who murder hoes like you for fun
Fun is a relative term that doesn't apply to the way that I experience any and everything under the sun
I feel like Nino, under the gun
Runnin -N- Gunnin like Tommy spraying and hoping that it hit someone
What do you think I am some kind of jerk
I'm cursed when I asked a Magic 8 Ball a question and shake it - it never works
You see me workin' it to be the worst
Its big WoTan get with thе program or be in a hearse
I seen somе things in my life that would make you queasy to the point it would make you easily contemplate leaving this earth
Meet your demise and leave it behind
Be it to your own devices and try to keep up with my evil rhyme
Children of the corn being Godly isn't my kind
Destined to be a glitch in the system like Scotty (?)