look, folk i aint from pittsburg, but my bars is made of steel//
don't know shit boutcha, but ill wet ya up n have ya ass growin gills//
boy chill, you couldnt spit a cold rhyme if you was rappin in winter wind//
i throw wit gold gloves, you can't faze me wit punchlines made of tin//
if you lookin to make friends, you done found the wrong place//
ima fuck you up so bad they gonna make a new forum,"closed case"//
my taste? i wouldnt be sweet on ya, if you looked like Free from 6 n park//
metaphorically, u like a dog-tree, one hundred percent bark//
nigga i rip u apart, like my 9 victims........ ask one//
make it ten, my rhymes stay sharp, grab ya weak lines n slash one//