Gitmo Menu

I’m goin’ to Gitmo,
not for a bid, though,
I’m diggin’ up ghosts from the shadows you hid, yo.
Thought you had the menu, sittin’ there smug,
but I’m the one doin’ the feast, pull the cipher beast’s plug.

I’m eatin’ with the creature, straight from the Earth,
servin’ hot plates of your fraud since birth.
Family wheel spin, keepin’ secrets in the spokes,
but we slice through the lies while you choke on your jokes.

We got recipes written in numbers divine,
Code 19 on the table, watch it all realign.
Your corrupt family kitchen’s on fire in the heat,
and every dirty dish you stacked is servin’ my seat.

So pass the plate, I’ll carve the meat from the lies,
feed it back to the system with truth in its eyes.
You thought Gitmo was the lock — nah, it’s my key,
to burn down your house while I eat you and remain Scott Free