1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6  Here comes the voodoo what'cha gone do when my crew  Back from the dead once more again  Fuckin' up the flow again, fuck it here we go again  Oh, not me again, last time I wrecked shit  Burned down the church comin' through like the exorcist  Next to this, you get put on my shit list  Throw lifers get dissed you can't fuck with this  Wicked wild, wicked style, I don't give a fuck I'll get buck wild  I'm psycho just like Michael  And I might go a little something like this, suicidalist  Dangerous minds bust when I bust  Digging up dust now I must, in God you trust  If I add just then I add just this  No justice, no peace, bloody body police  Belly of da pig got me fiendin' for a cracker  Jack be nimble make your body tremble  Cardiac arrest for the one in the chest  Then I K-I-double L T-H-E-F-E-T-U-S  Yes, I'm down with N-A-T-A-S, I suggest  You try but don't cry, 'cause the wicked shit'll never die    Once again I ressurected niggaz unexpected  A closed casket when I leaped out and blasted a basket  Case brother of insanity I'm not alone  Havin' fatal thoughts of puttin' a chrome to my dome  Now what kinda wicked shit? This some ol' wicked shit  Not so many niggaz all over devil diggin' shit  Stay up off my dick, my style's sick, but I'm so sick of this  Helter skelter bite my shit, it's so ridiculous  I know my shit's phatter than Luther Vandross  Psychic connection wanna hit me with the holy ghost  Overdose, diagnose, niggaz in a comotose  Once I buck, buck ya, nigga motherfuck ya  Voodoo wicked child born a bastard  Visions of bloody bodies bein' blasted  Thinkin' of excuses, voices in my head mental abuses  Loses my mind, thought the flatline refuses  To answer, you can fess shit as you question  Me and myself verses Smith and Wesson  I'm that nigga with the wicked ass flow  Bitch you better act like you know  'Cause the wicked shit will never die    The wicked shit will never 187  Never go to heaven and fuck that reverend  All day whenever and  Feel like givin' up, mind starts blowin' up  Some old wicked shit, once again I'm throwin' up  A fit, I'm never gonna get into heaven  That's why I bought me a three 57  Fuck a reverend, and God I can't trust is true  So when I go to hell, better me and not you  I'ma walk the bloody trail and you can follow if you want  If you truly understand but my man I think you don't  I'm a suicidal revital, my title's homicidal  So many niggaz will die when I write my recital  They don't understand that I gotta plan for the klan  The area nation, white caucasian  I'm sick of all the bullshit I'd rather be dead  But first I better put a bullet in your head instead  They said that everything I said was a lie  But if you go and kill the fetus you cry  But the wicked shit will never die