Aight check it:

Yo, I spit lines that'll make ya bones collapse/
Anihilate ya hope, put you into medical relapse/
This shit gonan get more twisted than a fuckin' homicide case/
Put you in ya place, and lace ya whole face with burning mace/
The only thing you could ever win is a handicap race/
Throw you off a building and you fall down at a breakneck pace/
Yo I can easily end ya whole fuckin life/
Kill you an' ya future wife, all with the same knife/
And still cut through all the strife and make ya face bleed/
You're gonna half to settle for second place cause I just took the lead/
I'm about to blast ya mind and snap ya vocal cord/
You can spit a dozen ryhmes, but they'll all be ignored/

__________________
The Madman

Breakdancer in Brooklyn