C-Quence spit first, with death thirst, ill eat 40 Calibers
ya battle verse comin up is left worse, seat ya style werds
ya cant fuck with me, im a king of rhythmic-process
Corpsman is like bologna, a sting of stingint losses
ya made of nuthin man, i own you and all ya bosses
i created heaven and earth, ya worship me wearin crosses
you got something better, show me, im waiting-for-new
itll prolly be something ive heard, your just waiting-for-cue
get a clue youve gone against tha wrong person
my lyrics will make you blue, and i havnt started merkin
im being easy right now, i could kill you in Alliteration
youd fumble words like dumbo turds in Foreign Nations
i crumble MC's like you prophetically like i diss Miss Cleo
my rumbles heard everywhere ill eat you like LiL Nemo
my rhyme will make you bloated u need prescribed Beeno
i can twist ya spine, get ya soaked, turn you out to be zero


srry yo, its 16 lines