Damn 20 lines max thats a fuckin line a minute...
I know I'm keyin but you got somthin pre-writtin
I chose blind spit, and It's my prefrence for a time limit
I Re-wind gimics, take it to you and Wrap this Gift Kid*
My presence, rips apart every word in your sentence
A W I pick it like fences, leave u stripped & defenseless
Man ta battle with me you must be crippled and senseless
You ain't walkin' away now you've tripled ya repentence
Your structure is wack, ya verse dont even function at that
I got punches ta match, 6 of ur verses crunched in this rap
No matter how hard you force yourself ta lunge it's a scratch
When Rb wants ta eat they look here I put lunch on tha map
Adjust ta tha facts, move ya bitch ass inta tha brunt of my axe
So blunt you attack, I could smoke you and give some of it back
Think you could trick me into crackin' under time and pressure
Foolish.....you verse is slackin' no wonder u rhyme like'a jester
Your nothin but somthin for us emcees to point and poke fun at
Treat us like royalty cuz when I ask for u I say "where my son at"
My lines get longer toward the end cuz i'm stretchin your neck
I've wasted good punches on you so you catchin' wats -L-eft

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