If the berettas talk to each other you die pal & that's a promise
When one's fired the other goes off like there's bad morale in the office
You ain't fooling anyone into thinking your writing's immense
You're never gonna pull off the Context when <that nearly always makes no sense
Each battle you put in more effort just to lose again so I ain't care
Keep spinning ya wheels so much.. Just shows you're probably a retard in a wheelchair
I'll press the silencer against your forehead. Gripping wit both hands
Then I'll pull to see fluid spraying out everywhere like shaken up coke cans
Listen, you're fake & not smart & .50 cal rounds'll take you apart
Call the scope on my rifle the cardiologist.. I make sure it's only trained on your heart
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