Generate Humans - Hansel

You couldn’t possibly be fucking ready for me

I generated the phosphate to fuse with my old school hate

Synced to the beat decomposed fucking smelly feet

The shit’s far from ill it sucks dick pickle dills

Standing here at your grave with the likes of Pat Magill

Spittin' on the head stone I bet you fuckin' died alone

And now a multitude snacks your fucking bones

Failed to achieve the excellence that you’d once shown

You think to yourself deep in the ground

Are they laughing at me, what the fuck is that sound?

Ready for an inoculation?

The year is 1954, and I’m at the door

With my thumbs balls-deep in a Croatian whore

Knife fighting at the ice cream social, fucking hardcore

You stand stunned at my sight, my beats are fuckin' tight

Try to hold a candle to me but the flames are in my pee

Suck my piss bitches, or else leave with a mouth of stitches

Your arms are now replaced with some fucking titses

The way we operate, motherfucking inoculate

You got a cherry red Stratocaster, you’re fuckin' great

Now shut the fuck up while I blast beats on your fucking face

Your last moment on earth, realize you’re eternally replaced

Bitch