Come on you herb, you’re so wack you couldn’t organise catastrophe
If you had a meeting with Bin Laden, Saddam Hussein and one thousand Iraqis
You spelt your name wrong and you can’t even rhyme two lines together
I’ll put a bullet in your head and murder your gang’s one and only member
I beat you so hard in the chest your sole is battered, bruised and abused
I’ve been accused of statutory rape cos I’m fucking these kids up daily
Truth strikes like R.Kelly saying "now I know why she had to be home by 8"
It Hurts dosnt it, you sound like the kind of guy that would say "i dont like
coc i just like the smell of it"
If you were to ride along on a bolt of lightning I’d still be ahead by light years
You don’t deserve such an ill ripping as skill’s dripping off my divine tongue
I could still defeat you if I was deaf, mute, blind and surviving on one lung
Since when do Verse and heart rhyme? Oh wait now this fag is editing
Circumcised Tapestry feel my lyrical blasphemy allow the sins to begin
my lyrics encrypt scripts with knife like incisions, that cuts you length
width and thickness like 3D dimensions
My choke maneuvers are designed to shed right throug you
like I gave you the Heimlich maneuver wearing the gloves of Fred Kruegar

Finisher:

When I spit precision my collisions shifts within them, attack your chest
plate so hard, your heartbeat will be skippin rhythm
you about to get Ko’d after you fall imma choke you
cause I just beat you so bad even chrit wouldn’t vote for you