Verse 1:
The Architect conducts supreme massacre
Perfected the craft as I swing my Excalibur
So why the fuck focus?
When brain tries to comprehend my words, it decomposes.
You posers rap? Now that's unacceptable
'Cause most of ya'll grab the mic for the fucking spectacle
And if you think your bling makes you respectable
I'ma slice off and burn your fucking testacles
Yeah! Don't you talk about war, kid
And don't you rap about the streets if you're born rich
Love rap, club rap, thug rap, FUCK THAT!
You dropped a whole album without saying shit bitch
I spit sick while ya'll lyrically incompetent
Call me an asshole, I'll take it as a complement
I'll hook you up with an IV of my semen
Internally kill you with microscopic demons
Chorus (2x):
Hip-hop! Will I live to tell?
How can I be an angel if I live in hell?
Brutality is the proper answer
Let the world hear my blood propaganda
Verse 2:
I don't need to be subliminal
To be lyrical or to speak facts through my rituals
I never keep my revelations to a minimal
So when I speak it's indeed critical
Don't you think it's hypocritical?
The way balladeers and bands think they original
What the fuck makes ya'll so special?
You plagiarize songs for career credentials
You ain't even got potential 'cause honestly
Revivals ain't synonymous to artistry
So next time you brainwash the Philippines
You wake up the next day strapped to guillotines
Yeah! Apoc is sick of lies
So I'ma decorate your bodies with kitchen knives
And if none of ya'll can stomach my wicked rhymes
I don't give a fuck so all you bitches die!
Repeat chorus
Verse 3:
I be independent permanently
Transform Hip-hop is the purpose for me
So ya'll better listen up every commercial emcee
'cause I got every demon in hell worshiping me
I firmly believe I could never be struck with applause
Unless I make music about the thugs and the thongs
I could never be like that, never stuck with the wrong
I would rather write something 'bout fucking your mom
Plus most of ya'll don't know the methodology
You just got connections and the technology
All I need is paper and a pack of cigarettes
So fuck ya'll overnight rappers in the internet
And if ya'll sleep to this, you're dead meat
I'll place a dozen beartraps under your bed sheets
Now you know why I'm not mainstream compatible
'cause I spit bloody than a bulimic cannibal
Repeat chorus
