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I see black.
She sees red.
Black widow’s web.
Lured to the spider’s deathbed.
She’s waiting to be fed
On her back with eight legs spread,
Blood stains on her bedspread,
Come on baby spit that thread,
Wrap it round my neck, let me dangle
Never seen the world hanging from this angle.
Ropes to my wrists, hung up, helpless to resist.
Just wait for the beast to be unleashed,
And consume the deceased,
Til then, just tease, false kiss of peace, sex and release,
Lost faith like forsaken Priests,
Bequeathed his body for the spider to feast.
I feel so alive when I fell her finally sink her teeth.
Wrap me up, Kill me in the sheets,
Tell me that you care,
I get high on your deceit,
Empty me until there’s nothing left but my defeat,
Then find your next victim. Let the cycle repeat.
Chorus:
To choke you is to feel you. Beg for mercy. Scream for more.
To whip you is to touch you. Rope-bound, tied up on my floor.
To lick you, is to kiss you. Wingspread, I’ll fuck you ‘til you soar.
To loathe you, is to love you. Pretty princess. Dirty whore.
None of this is real. Traded true love for sexual stereotypes—you know all my types,
The kind that every boy types in his browser when he pulls down his trousers.
Fake tits, a couple milfs, and some black chicks.
Another cliché story, add it my resumes, grasping for glory, meaningless praise
Without a woman who stays, just clichés, fantasies played out in a haze.
This isn’t love, not even lust. This is just a phase.
I’m demented, discontented,
Wasn’t satisfied until I was completely reinvented
Frankenstein revived but dead inside refused the bride that he’s presented.
Suffer resentment, and she’s offended. I’m a monster. I get it.
Chorus:
To choke you is to feel you. Beg for mercy. Scream for more.
To whip you is to touch you. Rope-bound, tied up on my floor.
To lick you, is to kiss you. Wingspread, I’ll fuck you ‘til you soar.
To love you, is to loathe you. Pretty princess. Dirty whore.
I am a Tin Man, turned gold,
Cast from a hateful mold,
Specimen to behold,
Prince charmer in an empty suit of armor,
But I lost my soul.
(Alternate)
I got no strings to tie me down,
To hang me up, to make me frown,
A puppet free of all that pain,
But all my strings ran through my veins,
I ripped them out and now I bleed.
The marionette crumpled at your feet.
I’ve got no strength, so I can’t stand, but
there ain’t no strings on me.
- Genre
- Hip-hop & Rap