when i stay right, i break mics, never sweatin stage fright
i hate life, nah i hate living, forget what im saying, not worth remembering
my rhyme stash'll have your asshole squinched up in your pants
when i act brash i hit fast with intentions to devestate your hands
i hate what you write, i hate what you spit
my lyrics burn mics, gutted and turnin round on the spit
i rip mcs with tactical degrees in fahrenhiet and celsius
this flows to hot for me, who else wants to melt with us