Untitled

every word i spit
they don’t want to quit
all of them have doubt
by the way i’m the writer from south

all their lips pout
cu’z my word is not deep
all they know it’s cheap
even they want to leap

i won’t let that happen
their mind is poisoned
i want them all to be crucified
until they become dead

i want them to suffer
cu’z i call myself terror
even in their dreams
i’m their nightmare