Don't die too soon, or you'll have to meet the Reaper
Fuckin' with the earth, just 'cause her clit's a little cheaper.
Cold to the core, but I have to go deeper
In order to catch feelings and seal em' off in a beaker.
Bout' time you popped off, spittin' some lyric magic
But I'm a spittin' image of Shakespeare in a casket.
Heed the words that I aim at your medulla when I blast it
Hiding my personality, my rhymes mask it.
But really I'm a god tier spittin'
Hot tea sippin'
Shoot you and the school
You can all get it
Finish.