you an't kool... I think the best things 4 ya dumass to go to school/
you an't practical neither tactful to defeat the most interlactigal /
your lyrics are bitten, ur shit wouldn't hit tracks if it was worst hip hip ten/
your either short of a mind, or got brain damage, can't even write wid a pencil
My words fuck you up worse then ya mumma slapping you wen ur talking/
you talk nonsence, and think u got no tolerence, u can't move streight walkin/
your jobs burger king, flipping burgers dat where u burn dem over cookin/
If you had dynamite-in-ur-hand, it wouldn't light-off-wid-a-bang, little-bitch/
and i bet ur a lil hitchyker wid signs pulling cars up let dem suck ur tight-clit/
next time come wid some harder flow and act like you know/

haha bitch

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