Paranoia

No one knows I’m coming up
Tighter than an armored truck
Tired of being pulled over and murked like a cover-up
No one wants a runner-up
Clouds are all clouded up
More corrupt than that motherfucker named Donald Trump
No one even knows my future plans to kill this bitch
With his remains strewn over the road where I run, call that the road ditch
I’ll snipe out Ivanka when she’s wearing a white blouse
Then I’ll sneak in as a security guard for the White House
Then I’ll take my nifty knife and sneak up through his pews
He’ll hardly notice me when he’s too busy tweeting that fake news
Then I take my hand and yank away his ugly ass toupé
Look over his shoulder, see Putin sucking his dick, today I learned they’re gay
I’ll pull out my MAC-11 and shoot that Russian President as Trump comes over Putin’s baby face like he’s a Catholic Reverend
It never ends, the intolerance
Yet the taller Toms are tolerant
Call out the conference’s audience just to tear down Trump’s conglomerate
You never know now, I wouldn’t want to be ya
I’m making up sounds like an onomatopoeia
Pull up on Trump like, “hey! It’s nice to meet ya!”
Bang, boom, pow! I wouldn’t want to be ya!
His skin color orange and he marries only foreign
Belly like porridge with a penis, only four-inch!
Forage for your remains on a road like it’s storage
A shortage of your life described on a song with no chorus
Oh wow, sorry. I didn’t mean to offend ya
Just describing how nice it would be if I had the opportunity to skin ya
Cut up all your muscles and leak out all your blood
Show you all my mercy like you showed my brothers love
Then I’ll lay strips of skin on the floor in six or seven stripes
The parts of our flag between your blood, the only thing that’s white
With your bone and muscle with the blue union that’s alike
We got the stripes but where’s your star? Wait, I forgot your wife!

Paranoia! You want to focus!
Broken down land yet you won’t even notice!
You’re getting really sleepy to this hypnosis
Amazing you can write history as something so explosive!

[skit]
“Yo, Chris, Chris, Chris! Did I just tell you to shut the fuck up? Oh my God, what the fuck were you thinking when you made this? You can’t just go around making fucking tracks about killing the motherfucking President! Are you out of your God damn mind!?”

What? Well, I mean, um, you know... ahh. What the fuck do you want me to do? What do you want me to talk about?

“Look, look, look, man. Look, okay? You need to practice, bro. You need to practice, bro. You need to build your skill up, you know? Have you ever fucking tried free styling before?”

N-no, why the fuck? No what the fuck’s freestyling?

“Bro, ugh fuck! You fucking dumbass. Oh my god, no. It’s when you fucking make shit up as you go along, okay? Just fucking try it, okay! Just try it, just try it