You’d swear you’d win, with more stretched lines than a fat bitches stomach//
My brass fist come lunging until you’re gasping and struggling, you and Tyson’s opponents come with the same average in punches// (not Much)
Trust me dawg, im cruel, so why you trying to test me?//I’ll leave ya chest wet like sluts who’re to excited to breast feed// I can't believe i got stuck in the same bunch wit these fake, irate, rap mistakes// who go to jail on purpose just to get raped, then claim to be straight// dealin wit me then there's just too much on ya plate, the reason i'm winnin' is cause i posess god sent traits// this dummy can't get half a line between em both even if he tried to concentrate//