BLOOD PROPAGANDA 
by Apoc the Death Architect

The Architect conducts supreme massacre
Perfected the craft as I swing my Excalibur
So why the [bad word] focus?
When brain tries [bad word] my words, it [bad word] 
You posers rap? Now that's unacceptable
'Cause most of ya'll grab the mic for the [bad word] spectacle
And if you think your bling makes you respectable
I'ma slice off and burn your [bad word] testacles
Yeah! Don't you talk about war, kid
And don't you rap about the streets if you're born rich
Love rap, club rap, thug rap, [bad word] THAT!
You dropped a whole album without saying [bad word] [bad word] I spit sick while ya'll lyrically [bad word] Call me an [bad word]  I'll take it as [bad word] I'll hook you up with an IV of my [bad word] Internally kill you with microscopic demons
 [bad word] Hip-hop! Will I live to tell?
How can I be an angel if I live in [bad word]  [bad word] is the proper answer
Let the world hear my blood propaganda

I don't need to be subliminal
To be lyrical or to speak facts through my rituals
I never keep my revelations to a minimal
So when I speak it's indeed critical
Don't you think it's hypocritical?
The way balladeers and bands think they original
What the [bad word] makes ya'll so special?
You plagiarize songs for career credentials
You ain't even got potential 'cause honestly
Revivals ain't synonymous to artistry
So next time you brainwash the Philippines
You wake up the next day strapped to guillotines
Yeah! Apoc is sick of lies
So I'ma decorate your bodies with kitchen knives
And if none of ya'll can stomach my wicked rhymes
I don't give a [bad word] so all you [bad word] die!
 [bad word] Hip-hop! Will I live to tell?
How can I be an angel if I live in [bad word]  [bad word] is the proper answer
Let the world hear my blood propaganda

I be independent permanently
Transform Hip-hop is the purpose for me
So ya'll better listen up [bad word] emcee
'cause I got every demon in [bad word] worshipping me
I firmly believe I could never be [bad word] with applause
Unless I make music about the thugs and the thongs
I could never be like that, never stuck with the wrong
I would rather write something 'bout [bad word] your mom
Plus most of ya'll don't know the methodology
You just got connections and the technology
All I need is paper and a pack of cigarettes
So [bad word] ya'll overnight rappers in the internet
And if ya'll sleep to this, you're dead meat
I'll place a dozen beartraps under your bed sheets
Now you know why I'm not [bad word] 'cause I spit bloody than a bulimic cannibal
 [bad word] Hip-hop! Will I live to tell?
How can I be an angel if I live in [bad word]  [bad word] is the proper answer
Let the world hear my blood propaganda