The Chemist already dropped u .. now im makin sure ya really hurt
the past is the same as ya future.. dead an buried beneath the dirt…
Style resembles ya heroes.. a long forgotten boy band
I’ll call u Justin.. cos outta Sync ya clapped by ya own hand…
So drop ya 2 cents.. ya can even drop nickels an dimes
But like big nosed coke addicts I’ll simply hoover ya lines…
Cos Illtalic’s the Harold Shipman of RB.. ‘Dr Death’ will do fine
im performin talent transplants.. so now ya ass is really mine…
The votes'll never be in ur favor kid.. no one understands ya vibe
cos scratchin at the surface of talent DOES NOT make u a Scribe...
Nicca I'll plant ya face on the side of the road.. so ya constantly see the curb
Breedin slurs.. call this bitch a Root.. he has to elevate jus to be a Herb...

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