Texty: Pro-pain. Fistful Of Hate. Can You Feel It?.

So, are you sick of me yet?
Well I'm sick of you too.
Been flappin them pork chop lips for days,
so what's up with you?
Always so quick to judge
but last up to the plate.
Knocked out with a lethal dose of me
and a fistful of hate.
On reputation alone, I'll make it last for days.
That's more than what could be said for you,
all stuck in your ways.
I stick like meat to bone
right down to the deal.
None short of a cut above the rest,
oh yes, I'm for real.

Can you feel it?

You, stand up!
Come face to face.
Now put your fist head high,
and I'll set the pace.
I'll get the best of you
while you dish out the least.
You taste the blood
all while I unleash the beast.


I'll get right to the zone, where it really hurts.
Sometimes that's what you get,
you'll get your just desserts.
High time to pack it up, and pack it in.
Make sure you don't forget the man
who fuckin did you in.

Can you feel it?

In this life I lead,
won't strive for second best.
You burned me to the core,
then put me to the test.
I'll show no signs of weakness.
Plant my flag of hate
inside your fucking mind!

Can you feel it?