Mors Certa, Hora Incerta

Yung James Cash hoe It's the Revelations Beat by Crowz bitch, you know how it goes Y'all wanna talk about rap shit Y'all wanna rap about guns You ain't even on that shit All these fuckboys wanna talk shit but y'all don't know shit They all wanna talk shit All these voices in my head keep wanting to fucking talk shit All these fucking fuckboys keep talking shit Ah! F*ck! Bitch I'm diminished, I'm Heron the menace Loner the premise, a sinners repentance I'm seeking no penance, just bless me forgiveness Resurrection of the Leto is malus E coemeterio passio Christi, oredisti ad me bitch, just crucify me Betray me like Judas, forever no keeps Keep my wrists shackled up when I'm buried six feet Deep in the grave that I found with no sound or peep Taking my last breath, bitch outta my mouth it leaks Born in the gallows surrounded by rotten teeth Triple six carved on my wrists, severed arteries Dying in silence, watch my blood as it starts to seep Into the floorboards that creak when you step to me Feeling like piss bitch, please just let me rest in peace All of these fuckboys are starting to sound like me I'm addicted to these drugs, yuh I'm-I'm-I'm addicted to these drugs but I ain't never giving up You ever walk up in a room and see no face you can trust? I'm walking slow and talking slurred, I make a sucker bite the curb It's the cut throat revelation bitch, I was taught to rob and serve You-You don't know what I'm smoking hoe (East Side) Shooting dope right off the foil (East Side) My death is fresh, my wrists are slit (East Side) Still fisting bitches, wishing different (East Side) Missing riches, you fictitious (East Side) Wishlist looking so ambitious (East Side) Shut the f*ck up fuckboy, I'm so tired of your talking mane