Go go go
The year of the rat, the first of the leader
Somebody shot the babysitter
They say my middle name is danger
The kind you keep away from strangers
I’m singing woahhhh
I’m out of control
Oh baby when I see your pretty face
I say woahhhh
God rest your fucking soul
Cause baby baby I was born to go
I pulled the trigger from the shooting stars
I am the motor in your crashing car
I am the cherub and the arab spring
I am the bullet in your magazine
I’m singing woahhhh
I’m out of control
Oh baby when I see your pretty face
I said woahhhh
God rest your fucking soul
Cause baby baby eyes
Uh baby baby eyes
Uh baby baby I was born to… kill
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I'm singing, woah/I'm out of control
Back to the non-threatening phoned-in thrash of the earlier moments on ¡Dos! GD aim for it hard with “born to kill” sentiments and pledging God’s rest to one’s soul with f-bombs, but they just keep falling flat. On the other hand, “I am the cherub and the arab spring” is a fine lyric.
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