[Erupt da Monsta]

In A Flash
The womb merely guards my pupils amidst ak-47,tank,and propaganda fire,
A hundred virgins echo in unison as times bomb expires.
There's a thin line between love and hate,
trip wires.
Preceding my ability to walk facilities engulfed communities involved
with an infants trouble to push.
My first words set the mood perfectly,
"George W. Bush" .
"Da da" came in a close third to "All hail Allah",
A hundred virgins birthed this serpent of karma.
Once I grew legs,
as a kid growing up owning much of history's transgressions mans lesson manifested into the trenches patiently destined
groups assembled from the roots of temples pursued by simple lucid yet astute potentials
shooting missiles,
proving useful pupils of Allah's fruitful ten fold.
A hundred scriptures read aloud from dead end mouths of the youngest ministers.
"All Hail Allah, All Hail ..."
A hundred virgins derail
my flaccid thoughts previously bought out by propaganda now patent locked.
Acquired passports,
wired cash morphed into a hired blast corpse impatiently awaiting higher transport.
Passengers surrounding me debate America's likely hoarder of Allah's supporters,
there's a thin line between love and hate,
the United States boarder.
The conversations of battered wives transformed into the sound of pulsating virgin vaginas
Focus.

All eyes translated to hatred, analyzing my every motion.

As the plane sustained altitude the mood fixated on descent,
The scent of deflowering a nation grew more intense.

A lack of experience is mistaken for innocence.

Nervousness curved the bliss of death for the masses,
Panic flashes.
The takeover conceded without layover to greet it.
Faces in dismay relay traces of hope,
There's a thin line between love and hate,
A trail of smoke.

[Erupt da Monsta]

In A Flash
The womb merely guards my pupils amidst ak-47,tank,and propaganda fire,
A hundred virgins echo in unison as times bomb expires.
There's a thin line between love and hate,
trip wires.
Preceding my ability to walk facilities engulfed communities involved
with an infants trouble to push.
My first words set the mood perfectly,
"George W. Bush" .
"Da da" came in a close third to "All hail Allah",
A hundred virgins birthed this serpent of karma.
Once I grew legs,
as a kid growing up owning much of history's transgressions mans lesson manifested into the trenches patiently destined
groups assembled from the roots of temples pursued by simple lucid yet astute potentials
shooting missiles,
proving useful pupils of Allah's fruitful ten fold.
A hundred scriptures read aloud from dead end mouths of the youngest ministers.
"All Hail Allah, All Hail ..."
A hundred virgins derail
my flaccid thoughts previously bought out by propaganda now patent locked.
Acquired passports,
wired cash morphed into a hired blast corpse impatiently awaiting higher transport.
Passengers surrounding me debate America's likely hoarder of Allah's supporters,
there's a thin line between love and hate,
the United States boarder.
The conversations of battered wives transformed into the sound of pulsating virgin vaginas
Focus.

All eyes translated to hatred, analyzing my every motion.

As the plane sustained altitude the mood fixated on descent,
The scent of deflowering a nation grew more intense.

A lack of experience is mistaken for innocence.

Nervousness curved the bliss of death for the masses,
Panic flashes.
The takeover conceded without layover to greet it.
Faces in dismay relay traces of hope,
There's a thin line between love and hate,
A trail of smoke.