Wishes, wishes, death to all snitches.
And Ye bitch be here, when I'm not, so ur in the clear.
With ur mind in a state a fear, to absorb ur hurt.
So to finish this stanza, we'll call you "Kurt".
And it's Kurt that's in Hell, and you got ur mail.
To fail in this life, and to incarnate as a rock.
But this ain't Roc-Nation, ur sol's smoke, we spark.
To do the Go-Kart, ur heart be bumping.
Now I wanna tell you something...
The fuck out of my head, this ain't the body of bread.
To turn ur sol from gold into lead, while my skin that sheds.
And this ain't the Ted, or the Al Bundy.
And you wanna know something funny?
Ur playmate was never the playboy bunny.
And ur mind's eye ain't sunny, but in the dark.
We turned ur (g)od into Jarvis, this the Tony Stark.
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