dont worry bout thys
 

i dont wanna save thys on my comp
its for a battle vs katastrophy n spitz

From the gutta to the rich I jst rap on beats//last time I had sex it caused a katastrophe// get it..theres only one spit and that’ll be me//playin a punk bytch is the onlything you can actually be// basic mathmatics one mic n 2 fags// non hype n 2 sad… not nice its 2 bad// a poor soul// I seen ya speech is weak you couldn’t stay on beat wit morse code n you both kno// ya talent is lackin you an actual actress// kicken ta ass so hard to take a shyt you’ll have to use an atlas//I’m the ill spitta, maybe ya idle// ya like the clippers whens the last time you made it to finals//I’m hear for my title you gon lose so get ya weight up// I’m bout to drop 2 like I’m taken a lay up//at 1st they hope// they gon win you aint a started so jst play the sideline like the 3rd base coach//