(First Verse - Fick)

(Second Verse - Cory)

Medieval Cory Steele, represent your family seal
In ya field with a spear but I'm not weildin' a shield
So yield when you feel me comin' for your guild
So skilled with a drill when I pummel & kill
Next up, guess what, now look at buddy dressed up
All that armor guess I gotta I fill it up with ketchup
Fess up, I'm the King you are just a bishop
Here to kill my energy, you're not supposed to get up
You are just a set up in this game of chess
Pro-tection's what ya gettin', no objection to the vest
Cuz I'm wreckin' with the best, when I'm peckin' at ya chest
With my weapon, get to steppin', my perfection is complex
The collection is upsetting, with no sweating I am netting
All the bodies I'm beheading with the dread that I be spreading
To the dead this is a wedding to the reaper now you're begging
For your ending you're ascending but I'll keep your death at pending
(mothafucka)