Instrumental with the weapons

Praise to the Smith & Wesson’s

Artist skilled leaving a red message

Loud or suppressed, just leaving messes

Pulling out the tools

On the ignorant crews

Leaving mothers singing blues

Index finger got a tic, loud with an acous’

So many models for the artist, so poised and traced in white

The sun is forever clueless, homicides happen at night

The moon and all the stars the only witnesses of the might

Such a mad monster, baring metal with some red lights

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