yo my flows like cocaine it'll leve your face num//

I should git witcha mom and make you my little bitch of a son//

yo I always roll deep so if we got beef i'm rollin with like 10 troops//

and i'll leve your forhead stamped with a tree curtisy of my timb boots//

yo this cats soft man I need a replacement//

compared to you my flows sicker than a cancer patient//

and if you got 15 punch lines I got thirty//

like i'll put bulets across ya chest like an old washington jersey//

yo this cats over cooked, man he done//

so mike does ya face feel num//



whats good got here as quick as possible heres mine. peice