Year of the rat, last of the litter
Somebody shot the babysitter
They say my middle name is "Danger"
The kind you keep away from strangers

I say whoa, I'm out of control
Well, baby, when I see your pretty face
I say whoa, God rest your fucking soul
'Cause baby, baby I was born to kill

I pulled the trigger for the shooting stars
I am the motor in your crashing car
I am the cherub in the Arab spring
I am the bullet in your magazine

I say whoa, I'm out of control
Well, baby, when I see your pretty face
I say whoa, God rest your fucking soul
'Cause baby, baby eyes

Well, baby, baby eyes
Well, baby, baby I was born to... Kill!