Flying Gloatus

I'm a motherfucking beast, I got a hungry-ass spirit
I rap slow 'cause I get choked on the spit my mouth's buildin'
Droolin' over bodies of recently deceased victims
I killed in slo-mo style while the vinyl was still spinnin'

So what if I got a stupid accent? I don't need it
When I'm shouting out my battle cry right before killin'
Starting massacres that can be heard all throughout the village
They tried to do a body count, it didn't have a ceiling, uh!

I'll do this shit without a chorus, it's not pop
But it will get popped when my bullets register countless headshots
They tried making a documentary, ended up with shorts
Exposure to my sins for forty minutes makes their heads hot

Psychologists looked into my head, they didn't make it
They came up to a level of progress but couldn't save it
Their fingers were tremblin' as they were writin', they went careless
I took control, the lights went out, in five minutes they're wailin'

Most wanted lists, I'm on them; all the pussies lit, I'm on them
That's all I can think about, education's useless knowledge
Except the power of calculation that's always flawless
In going through hordes of people, spreadin' stylistic violence