I'll strip this bitch, make em freeze naked like playboy models/
In rhymes, this fool couldn't top me if he was a cap n i was a bottle/
you'll get toppled, i dispose of you for raps betterment/
you get mad and I just react and make yo neck twist like excorcists/
let it live, your battle are boring and your style is basic/
all of yo rhymes are "fake", like you got yo lyrics from the matrix/
you can't win, I mean my verse is bound to beat yours/
if not, i hope yo "whack juice" drip n fuck up yo key board/
what do u speak for?, your a question, i'm the answer/
and your style couldn't grow if it were a deadly form cancer/