th1rt3en – Cult 45

[Pharoahe Monch]

Chop the head off of false idols, toppled your statues and set them a blaze. T Donald, make Ronald Reagan turn in his grave. I season discrimination, sprinkle a little sage, add a dash of hatred, eat it then get on stage. Chase it down with some poverty and a splash of the murder rate, regurgitate it then I spit out rage.

Sit in a circle of 13 candles and smoke haze, thinking we should miss Christ, Christmas will make you a slave. Lactose intolerant at birth, I was never fazed by the race for chasing American cheese in the maze. In 4th grade I played scrabble, scrambled the letters in the name Santa, magnified and deciphered the clauses in the game. Nauseating, I’m angry, Bill Bixby, Exorcist! make the Presidents head 360.

Emergency! you should monitor the mercury in your thermometer, witchcraft immortal, Paranormal phenomena. The dark side of the truth, no apology! Carbon monoxide in the booth do not follow me (wheezing) please do not breath! You are now Listening to the killer bees in my lungs when I wheeze. Hex for the klux clan, clues for the alt right, enchanting incantation for their adult life,
Flows overthrow Pharaohs & kill Caesars. Iris inside of an isosceles pilot the Nebuchadnezzar heaven! 7 orifices over crossed fibulas, 13 spit a poison dart through the heart of Caligula

Cult 45, vehicular homicide, insidious the meticulous way that I’ve arrived! It’s Cult 45, the particulars so sublime, it ridiculous the ubiquitous flow is so conniving.