Oh please, ya styles a disease its got people fallin asleep/
Take heed to my shit calm down a little bit cos your easy to defeat/
How you call me illiterate when your punk ass cant even spell/
I never heard of ironis or a flooke you jus make people leave an dispel/
Its a shame your vision'd wrong cos I ain't that bitch Mad dog like you claim/
But you up my ass so much like your votes for Mad Dog they don't even explain/
Two lines ain't enough or is that all your worth cos to me you just a joke/
You dick ride all the crews up in here so you can get yourself some votes/
Take sides like a bitch cos I'm a one man army in this game of gangsters/
All you can ever be is a prankster or as 50Cent says, you jus a Wankster/
I'm informin you now cos you flow and style's jus pure whack and weak/
Cos you a meek feeble excuse for a geek I seek to preach so your style you tweak/
At the minute you need to elevate cos your lines are burnt out more than a match/
Dispatch ya army, keep 'em comin cos I scratch ya record and my win I catch/
No reason to hate nor no reason to debate ya loss will equal a rebate again/
Cos fate got you worried, you will end up in a quarry, in this game you jus refrain/