I bleed it out. Go, stop the show. Chop your words in a sloppy flow. Shotgun I pump, lock and load, Cock it back and then watch it go. Mama help me, I’ve been cursed, Death is rolling in every verse. Candy paint on his brand new hearse. Can’t contain him, he knows he works. I hope this hurts, I won’t mind. Doesn’t matter how hard I try. Half the words don’t mean a thing, And I know that I won’t be satisfied. So why, try ignoring him. Make your dirt dance floor again. Say your prayers and stomp it out, When they bring that chorus in.