Ive checked ya rhymes you couldn’t pack punches if you gift wrapped ya fists
Your just a wack bitch, your skills lopsided and sucks like miss matching tits
Fuck Se7eN, that’s just an alias so you can muster failures
Cus like non custard ailments ya passed sloppy and nowhere close to sick
You shouldn’t boast ya thick cus we know your mostly bitch and ya raps get mouldy quick
You dropping more bad lyrics than micheal Jackson fumbling rhyme books
Get some real attacks faggot, or just keep mumbling ya mimed hooks
Every battle verse you post makes reference to your madd rhymes and name
Faggot should be jailed for wackness and crimes against this game
How about a little bit of wordplay or better yet how about a punch or two
Hey man why you all red, oh im sorry is it that time of the month for you
So what you can flow bitch? you about original as thumbs and digits
You’ve lost sight of all remnants of punches like boxers with cataracts
ive stolen your drive for rap like taking a hostage cadillac
your falling short of the minimum mark in rap like clumsy wacks in running tests
you always seem to be two steps behind me, like backs huntin chests

Finisher:

My Divine Scriptures Intertwine Mixtures of Mind Pictures
and Sinister Quotes that don't Administer Hope cuz you're Fucked
when I Drop like a Prisoner's Soap