On The Prowl

[Mr. Hyde]

I'm dressed to kill with the glock and 38 on my waist line

And merkin you to me will translate to a great time

The guns that I hold oh man the money I mold

If I don't get it then you better bet the gun'll explode

The gun is aimin it your face you beater tear that shit up

Forget blastin your gut make sure your casket is shut

The black sheep of the bunch turning the weak into lunch

Yo I'm hungry for your flesh like I aint eaten in months

Out to get with my axe and let it drag on your tan line

Put hands in the box and stab the handle with cat signs

I'll be in disguise ready to stick you with knives

And leave your arms gross like Forrest Whitekers eyes

Are you ready to die by this machette of mine?

It takes just one strive for your head to divide

Fuckin bludgeoned all night by my games of death

The cops'll struggle to find where your remains are left

They're underneath the weeds rotting in a gentle breeze

Chillin with the flies beetles and the centipedes

A distant memory your existence is gone

You're on your way to the gates where you'll be visiting God

[Chorus]

I'm on the prowl huntin for your head or your chest

Leavin you dead like the rest I got a fetish for death

I'm on the prowl son so you can run and evade

It's all the same in the end you got a date with my blade(2x)

[Mr. Hyde]

It be the Children of Corn style the killa with sword I'll

Unleash a plague of bees apon a billion a sworn pile

Desolate drug supply the strength of my hug

But when I catch you you're strung up by the flesh of their tongues

Start avengin the script you'll be eventually ripped

Tossed in pendulum pits until you stench of the crip

You'll be hunted for days by thug with guns and grenades

Fuckin punchin your face until you're sunk in the grave

Blades are stuck in your brain laced and stuck in the lake

You should've ducked when I sprayed son you're a fuckin disgrace

Dirty legions on your grill plus excretions will be spilled

Gory missions will be filled must relieve before you're killed

My sinister inside drugged with hundreds of pills

It's a minister midnight better run to the hills

I'm leavin you diseased burning bullets get released

Earth is sure to hear you screech like guitars of Judas Priest

Next step you're check mated your vest is invaded

The hollow tip shells your chest is seperated

Your caught up in a mess of tortured long death

From the depth more or less a corpse with torn flesh

[Chorus]