i hope lyric aint checkin into my hotel...
needs to be checking into an institution cause he's mental...
not mental enough to kick my ass,
but crazy enough to look in the mirror and punch the glass.
he picks up the shattered pieces of the mirror,
cutting at his skull causing a brain tumor.
now he's laying on the ground bleeding out the ears,
as will i when i hear his comback lines that'll take him years...
to type,
don't pick him to win, his shit ain't even ripe.