Like Peter Pan's enemy with an itchy ass Chemist you stink at hooks
The only parts of ya audios that don't annoy me are the interludes
Your whack kid...dickrides and site management set aside
Your the only fag whose new years resolutions to get a life
I'm refuting verbs...killin herbs, bout to re-boot this computing nerd
Chemist is proof that all brooklyn‘s good for is producing herbs
Big Pun signature collection… doesnt mean put it in ya sig
wanted underground rap took his microphone and started to dig
Only way your taking this shit is if you wind up abusing the votes
I turn Chemist to 'a flat major'...n I aint talking musical notes
Bitch I'm revved up to snap ya neck and leave both of ya legs fucked
You lack moves putting your head up my ass don't count as a head butt
Your dead slut you remind me of slow clocks cause it looks like ya times past
Your rhymes lack and your verses like your mothers sisters orgasms an anti climax
Like extreme gays with huge bum holes…you got a foot in the ass
Cause even if you dressed formal when spitting you still wouldnt be suited to rap