Go To Hell - Prozak

The chosen one the wicked son, they call me Hitchcock

Talk some shit, and I’m a hit ya with this quick Glock

Body parts are scattered and sealed up in zip locks

With my steel caps get peeled up to six blocks

You can try to run away but you won’t get far

They call me Prozak bitch the knighted templar

I’m blowin' up your fucking brain like the death star

And lyrics come to me like ghost from the graveyard

Since my birth I’ve been obsessed with the dead

Homicidal thoughts while I was being breastfed

I tried to kill myself but I survived instead

From pieces of a broken mirror sliced my wrist bled

Shit my wicked rhymes will have you overdose, and leave your ass comatose

You try to play me close I’ll levitate through smoke

When I hit the fucking stage be like what’s that smell

Sulfur and brimstone bitch go to hell

(They call me Hitchcock)

The radios afraid to play my wicked paragraphs

Go to the station lock and load up on they whole staff

And let them know the danger of us crossing paths

And let it be known I spit the truth like a polygraph

So jot it down homie copy that

There’s always room for another carbon copy cat

They try to run with my style but I got it back

And try to sound just like me with your head in half

(Go to hell)