MAD add cuts to hand, like stickin ya fingers in a metal fan...
lost Structure man, ya shits all over the place like dust n sand//
An i have no time or patience for wackness, so im smackin this phony...
Till he lie flat on his back, down for the count like draculas homies //
cuz Like sex, My text A-pills, but yours just Lacks the Skills...
Im hard to kill, got you jumpin in holes like Iraqie fields//
ya Punches so old you hittin nothin but dust like Holly Filed..
retire you must, cuz ya text loosin heat faster than oatmeal//
and gettin a load shot in ya mouth is the only time your full of Illness...
if we fought, and you heat seek ya punches, youd probably still miss//