Nice to know they still admit retards to the battles//
Boy u sound like u bin out all day fuckin dead cattle//
Fuckin with another nigas style, all the while, all yours does is crackle//
My shit sparkles sho bright you fade to grey behind a midgets tackle//
My methods for makin money come easy wen I battle bitches lilke you//
There ain't nothin to get at cos all that eminates from you is the stank of poo//
Your verses are messed up and barely even rhyme in time to the rhythm//
Treat you like jus another bith that I pimp an up-side they head I hit 'em//
Boy you weak an your rhymes are whack meanin they comprehend the issue//
All you ever do wen u sit down at your computer is grab a hand of cleanex tissues//
You masturbate over my verse wishin you coulda wrote it, but u can't cos u crap//
I'm tellin you this now, because everything I got your ass seems to lack//