[Monologue: Keisha Plum]
I'm spittin' on n***as' souls
Daydreams of bullet holes
Pretty face with a heart made of stone
Sociopath on a throne
And n***as still catchin' love Jones
High off Keisha Plum prose
Silk taffeta by Alexander McQueen
Most hated like Idi Amin
N***as is phony, they weak to me
Poetry painted like a Paleo masterpiece
Champagne bubble bath, the angel of death sings to me
Hitler Wears Hermes 7, but you won't make it to heaven
Sadistic thoughts like Adolf with a third eye
Pistol down your throat, can't wait to hear your mom's cry
Griselda, by Fashion Rebels