Akin to Brandon Lee in the crow 
Nothing to lose homie 
I’m gung-ho 
Feel like three ten to Yuma 
Russell Crowe
No one really know me homie 
I’m a ghost 
Production immaculate 
Three crows
That’s the culprit 
Neurodivergent 
My brain an arena 
That’s hard to quiet
Hella’ Racket in my attic 
Havin trouble 
Tryna unpack it 
Hella’ judgement came from people like a pulpit 
Washed my hands clean of these morons 
Like Pontius Pilate 
Retrieval of self 
From the rubble of facade 
Scrutiny came my way 
More than any kind of applause
Feel like the chaperone for my own demise
These lyrics that I spit
Are not a disguise 
Just another entity going through entropy
I am the black sheep
An after thought of everybody

Blast me
Don’t ask me
Why you had to pass me off as a bad piece of work           
I feel sadly
Non sympathetic 
Fuck apologetic
Feelings are joke when you judge me as pathetic
Throw me for a loop
Think you know the truth
Try to make a claim against my mother fuckin’ troop
Three fuckin’ crows that flew the chicken coop
Hunting for a punk mother fucker on the stoop 
This is just another crows anthem
Another mine waiting
Gaz and Dot had to plant um’
Lyrics are exploding from the brain
Hear the shrapnel
Mother fuckers try to talk shit then we nab um’
Lastly I don’t give a fuck what happens
Leave me in a ditch dead in a dark casket
Call me crazy case
I’m a basket
Cause I don’t give a fuck what you pussies gotta say
Ya I’ve mother fuckin’ had it

Killer image drippin’ from the top
Holes in my head
Black Ink in my skin
Images of the dead
Despite what you see
There’s a mind of a G
Fuck it I’m a say it
G A Z
You be fucking with the realest
Matter of fact
Keep your two cents
Hold your breath
Don’t forget to exhale 
Better yet
Suck up the negative shit in your mouth
Choke on it
No way to let it all out
Maybe next time think before you feeling all stout
Motherfucker was an outlaw
Hands cuffed
Riding in the back of cop cars
Flip the script 
Twelve years
Six figures 
That’s a trip 
Life long mentors even had their doubts on
Your only enemy isn’t me
Exquisitely said 
I rose from the dead
With a corpse and my crows
Murderin’ in the grove
When the fucking foes
Start droppin’ to the floor
That’s your cue to turn around and go

Fuck it
I wet you up
Thinking I won’t 
Conversations been had 
And the judgement is doom 
Cut myself from the womb
The fuck you thinking I do 
Mother fuck you 
And your punk friends too 
Three crows cawin’ at the bag filled with bad shit 
8corpses slide out the back with the hatchet 
Silly mother fuckers over the top
You’re a spastic 
Ain’t no one killing shit the way we do
No open casket 
Lend all my achievement to the man who not facetious 
Passed the big three oh and never felt more like breathing 
Can’t fuck it up
Stand with no crutch 
I never know when to give up 
My site is set and definitely 
The boys and me to the end 
Three O D

Misreflection

Misreflection Feat. 8corpses

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Misreflection Feat. 8corpses

THREE OR DIE