The only thing about you that's bouncin' dawg, are your cheques.
You winnin' this is a distant dream, like da last time you had sex.
kinda weak but it has a punch

I'ma make you eat and fuckin' choke on your song's text.
A reflex... reaction to your shit. Gettin' me vexed.
Flows hot- needs a punchline
You got all the time you need to pick the words you're gonna use.
Still you'll make this shit like 8-ball, you'll be missin' all your cues,
iight
You're gonna lose, don't snooze, lyrically I will abuse,
I have issues with makin' bitches outta the fuckin' likes of you.
super hot flow
I'ma burn so hot I'll be congeling you're fuckin' flow.
You'll be askin' yourself later, "Where'd my punchlines go?"
not bad
I'm gonna make this shit a white-out, sixteen inches of fuckin' snow.
Ghetto cripple, you're out to lunch if you even think that you'll K.O.
I think a different choice of words would have made this punch snap

I'ma a slice you up and send you home in multiple packages.
Just for fun I'll lable each one with a fresh insulting adjective.
Here's your severed hand wrapped up in bloody bandages.
You can't grip the mic now! You see my fuckin' happiness?
I'll let you get to spittin' now, sit back and watch you blurt it
and stumble through each and every bar like you're uncertain.
Look at you. Steppin' up to the mic like it's worth it.
Like Street Fighter 2, I'm gonna end this bitch Perfect.
This is what won the battle- 4 bars of nice punches, excellent flow, a multi or two-- very nice.- Vote Whiskey

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