Generate Humans

You couldn't possibly be fucking ready for me
 I generated the phosphate to fuse with my old school hate
 Synced to the beat decomposed fucking smelly feet
 The shit's far from ill it sucks dick pickle dills
 Standing here at your grave with the likes of Pat Magill
 Spittin' on the head stone I bet you fuckin' died alone
 And now a multitude snacks your fucking bones
 Failed to achieve the excellence that you'd once shown
 You think to yourself deep in the ground
 Are they laughing at me, what the fuck is that sound?
 Ready for an inoculation?
 The year is 1954, and I'm at the door
 With my thumbs balls-deep in a Croatian whore
 Knife fighting at the ice cream social, fucking hardcore
 You stand stunned at my sight, my beats are fuckin' tight
 Try to hold a candle to me but the flames are in my pee
 Suck my piss bitches, or else leave with a mouth of stitches
 Your arms are now replaced with some fucking titses
 The way we operate, motherfucking inoculate
 You got a cherry red Stratocaster, you're fuckin' great
 Now shut the fuck up while I blast beats on your fucking face
 Your last moment on earth, realize you're eternally replaced
 Bitch