yo

please, my rhymes illistrating intimidation sending complications through the duration of this battle causing you to resort to evacutation,
your rhymes similar to atari games more basic than pong, fillen yo rhymes with filler making em look long, so you consider your ten lines iller than a bong, filled wit chronic i'm lyrically spittin bubonic,
so retract your lines i'm headed at you with words equivelint to an arsenaul of A.ks and Nines,
cuz your rhymes are more played than your moms pussy at back yard bar b ques,
she sucks dick so much she's constantly spittin curly q's
my versus are like lyrical writers block sendin you into confusion, sorry for the abusin but my punches leave you internally bleadin from excessive bruisin,
callin you missy elliot cuz your rhymes constantly under construction,
this is an induction to a book of merked bitches under for reals hands leavin ya wit body full of stitches

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"Say hello to my lil' friend"