Big Dog

You don't really wanna war with the big dog
End up looking like a bitch boy getting picked on
Wont just kill em all
Might John Wick 'em when I sick 'em with a hound
That I pick up from the pound
Till I stick 'em to the ground
You can listen to the sounds
As their ripping all your organs out
Now there's corpses down on the ground
Not a noise to be found
Or a voice to be heard
Just the sounds of the birds in the trees
As they chirp and they sing through the leaves

Talking pretty loud for a little shitty runt
With your set of clowns
And your crew of brittle city bum friends
That only go out hunting for dirty ciggie butts
Then all the rest get methed up
And more than a little bit messed up In the brain stems
They're so dumb that it makes my head ache
But not only in there
Cause it's spread to the rest of my bodies flesh
Tommie fresh as a Tommie gets
Hotties get quite a hobby When they see me in the lobby
And then find they really want me
While I'm wielding my shotty up high in the sky
Like I'm Clyde still in need of a Bonnie
Stealing a Hottie's quite naughty
But steering the car while she gives me a sloppy old gobby is what I call godly
They can all call me Johnny Cash
But here comes Johnny
With an axe to
Your bathroom door

You'll see who's cheap with the Gucci
When I shoot feet like Bruce Lee had a Blue V
That's the kinda action You'd usually have to go see at the movies
You want me neutered
To stop me from shooting
A block full of losers
Who watch me through bloopers
Upon their computers
It's probably rumoured my possy is fewer in suckers
But greater in godliness
Smaller in numbers
But bigger in heart and head
Ruler in charge that's rumoured to bark at
Whoever starts to step towards our defence
Brutal and dark and crueler than all the humans you thought to send

You don't really want a war with the big dog
Piss off!
Won't sniff logs if I'm looking for a pole I can piss on
Smoke this pot till I'm looking awful stoned
Bitches looking for a bloke they can sit on
Getting sick thoughts when your clothes are getting ripped off
Getting hit on till we almost hit
It off
With a DM to your inbox
I still keep on trynna to lift all this weight off me
Till I'm lighter than a feather be
Imma keep rising all the way
Till I'm higher than I've ever been

Monster of murderous topics
Thoughts turning terminal opps
Into permanent bodies I purposely bury and drop
Barely determined to stop All these verminous flops Lurking back in the bottom of these Kraken bottles
That I've probably already polished down
Without a problem I can't solve by playing possum
Make a promise to the prophet
Not to pocket any profits
Take a comet to your concerts
And those coffers full of coppers

Rub off on me that's how I feel
Run off onl me how do I deal
Knowing that now I don't know how to heal
So I'm bleeding out
Hoping someone hears me when I'm screaming out
Coping without yelling but I'm shouting loud
Now they're all about to find out that
King Wolfie MC has been
Casting magic spells just like a mage
That's chanting shit right from a page or two
Inside the book of some wise sage
That could erase the pain that your brain always seems to feel each and every day
Never goes away
Always forced to face
What I've grown to hate
Way too old to play
With my toys the same
Now I roam around the plains with a poison blade

You don't really wanna war with the big dog
End up looking like a bitch boy getting picked on
Wont just kill em all
Might John Wick 'em
When I sick 'em with a hound
That I pick up from the pound
Till I stick 'em to the ground
You can listen to the sounds
As their ripping all your organs out
Now there's corpses down on the ground
Not a noise to be found
Or a voice to be heard
Just the sounds of the birds in the trees
As they chirp and they sing through the leaves