Ya rhymes pump more jizz than an elephant dong
An they blow more smoke than cheech an chong
Punches are weak, like popeye need spinach to get strong
Ya rhymes are a mobile home on flats, ya flows a reck
Jus for sayin' white guys rule I'm a put ya ask in check
Are u from the KKK, or like Jeff foxworthy "u might be redneck"
You don't got the balls to step to me, cuz u know u can't see me
Prolly ya dick so small u need glasses and some tweezers jus to pee
How you gon be a rapper when you think u cool rockin' baggy dockers
An you so desperate for pussy u wackoff to the sight of ya mom's knockers
U have down middle of ya face, an everytime u rhyme u get a bathroom pass
Cuz after everytime you spit all that shit you were told to wipe ya ass
He scared he gon cower, cuz he know his time's up he on his "25th hour"
He fears black power, cuz eatin' him like not a meal but a sauce like sweet sour
You garbage mothafucka, this wasn't a battle morelike a easy catfight
Don't know wheter to call him bitch or faggot, its confusin' battlin' a hermapherdite

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