text: Load up my big nine, now Im finna shoot to kill
  If you bustas slippin, its this .50 finna do the deal
  Load up my big nine, now Im finna shoot to kill
  If you bustas slippin, its this .50 finna do the deal
  Load up my big nine, now Im finna shoot to kill
  If you bustas slippin, its this .50 finna do the deal
  Load up my big nine, now Im finna shoot to kill
  If you bustas slippin, its this .50 finna do the deal
  Load up my big nine, now Im finna shoot to kill
  If you bustas slippin, its this .50 finna do the deal
  Load up my big nine, now Im finna shoot to kill
  If you bustas slippin, its this .50 finna do the deal
  Load up my big nine, now Im finna shoot to kill
  If you bustas slippin, its this .50 finna do the deal
  Load up my big nine, now Im finna shoot to kill
  If you bustas slippin, its this .50 finna do the deal
  Straight outta hell, ring the bells, Plague is here to stay
  Roaches and locusts, they cover me
  No halo hovering, follow me in yo grave
  Aint got no Patek because Ill be here till the end of fucking times
  Thy kingdom come; thy will be done
  And still you wonder, who am I?
  I am the devils son, born and raised
  Preaching $uicide, googly eyes
  Tell me more!—okay
  Praise the fucking devil, God can suck my dick
  I scorch the plains
  Making mountains crumble, glaciers meltin, oceans swellin
  Im lord of the plagues
  Load up my—
  Wait a fucking minute, I got more to say
  Threatening swordplay
  Some would say nay, cause the tip of my sword blade dipped in chlordane
  Lord Plague breaking fortés
  $carecrow in the corn maze, haunting board games
  For war, we pray
  Plague is cold in Norway
  Hanging from the doorframe with sores and stains
  For war, we pray
  7th Ward, the grey
  For war, we pray
  7th Ward, the grey
  For war, we pray
  7th Ward, the grey
  For war, we pray
  Death is inevitable
  The fucking $carecrow walkin on his tiptoes
  On your blood-stained wood floor, you know, mister typical
  Hearin the fucking voices through my window
  But no worries
  Just like Chucky, Cut Throat got the blade, and the knife
  May thy rise for the Yung Christ—never even died
  My father just forsaken I
  Im still $uicide until I die
  Its an eye for an eye
  Speaking of I, I— 
  See the reaper having a busy season
  Wont even let me rest, while Im sleeping
  Its gettin harder to watch from the bleachers
  The father of evil
  Like Knievel, Ruby and I stay jumping over people
  Xanax eatin, close to lethal
  Cigarette breathin junkie, used to needles
  So I grew up a fuck-up 
  Load the nine up, my times up, yeah 
  Grew up a fuck up
  Load up my big nine, now Im finna shoot to kill
  Load the nine up 
  If you bustas slippin
  Its this .50 finna—