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Norwegian metal god?

A Mongolian midget

Failing at everything

We know you're a moron

Running out of money

Using other's for your bills

I got you publicity

You Closed your shop in fear

Nobody Likes you

No one calls you friend

Everyone against you

and you blame me

I'm stealing your fame?

I'm stealing your fans?

I'm stealing your genre?

as if I care for those things

You will die, Euronymous

Coward with an ego

Plotting for my death

No real friends left

They told me your plot

Your band mate's with me

He lives in my home

I listened to your call

That I "need to go away"

I drive to your home

To give your contract

Relieve myself of you

And your connection

You are afraid of me

You run for a knife

I don't let you kill me

You run away instead of fight

Now you die, Eronymous