Written to Music Box beat. Cuz it's cute.
Fuck it, I'ma give ya my opinions, yeah, my guesses
About this girl with mascara and fake eyelashes
It's my bashes, my lashes, it's fucking my smashes
Smash hit, radio shit, with rhymes from my classes
As I messes with plastic, melt it to dry ashes
Fry asses, with deep muhfucking tight trashes
I'm so sick of seeing you even when I'm missing you
Now your concealation I reveal, I'm dissing you
Like I constantly and fucking repeatedly do
Enjoy it no matter how the listeners immediately boo
To avoid awkwardness, you know what happens next
Extracted intestines, cracked spine and broken legs
Fuck it, this is a murder, sue me with your bank accounts
Fake ass literally, fake pussy, fake boobs, like this prank will count
Enough with that eye-play, at least don't show it my way
I swear I'd do it in this bright day, why don't you try-ta-pray?
No matter how angry, the fucking law won't fucking hang me
Fake bitches tried to spank me, but now they thank me
They think about it, looked in the mirror with a shock
On their faces cuz they saw their noses like rocks
Fucking dented, fucking bent, they cried on the spot
Reprogrammed themselves because they died like a bot
She's just a bot monitored, controlled to stun me
Shows me like I'm always honored, with a hold that run me
Walks around with that face, which actually is a beauty
But with fake eyelashes, so I told myself, it's my duty
So I pulled them out, along with the real ones
She screams, runs like it's a Buffalo-Bill-run
Even in death, I'ma chase you, so now might as well taste you
On that chair let's place you, that's where I'll embrace you
Fuck it, this is a murder, sue me with your bank accounts
Fake ass literally, fake pussy, fake boobs, like this prank will count
Enough with that eye-play, at least don't show it my way
I swear I'd do it in this bright day, why don't you try-ta-pray?