Yo, this nigga calls himself a fantasy but his rhymes are freakin' nightmares/
Bullshit Tupac is bout to get knocked, on RB vote seekin' but nobody cares/
God damn, this wannabe Tupac he must fuckin' wanna be dead/
Spare me the trouble, mutha fucka, put a hole in your own head/
Your rhymes are like paper to my butcher knife, u have no chance/
If you want me to spare your bitch ass you gotta do a hoe dance/
U a clown outside of costume bitch, pay ya in ur blood to make ya feel rich/
I'l lyrically exorcise ya, witch, smack ya like I'm da bat and you a failed pitch/
I don't where u thought up the fantasy that you could try to fuck with me/
A nigga with no eyes could see that generally I'll take this battle easily/
Keep your confused muthafuckin' head spinnin' in a freakin' lyrical daze/
I guess I gotta add this fantasy to da list of niggas I sent to early graves/