kid.. ur rhymes wouldnt be golden if i gave you the "midas-touch"-*
u call your self a "street-legend" but u cant throw a "legit.punch"-
you can polish and engrave your verse in silver it still wont shine-
your crew being good?thats far-fetched.. ur the flaw in the design-**
you hold about as much weight as a crippled kitten can lift-
ur punches are hittin like a blind boxer with a broken fist-
i could put you in a comba but a doctor would say u still aint sick-
gonna spit a wack verse......... so his wounds will be self inflicted-***
you cant handle weight im puttin out 2 much for u to b contendin-
ive lyrically murdered you.. thats fiction..not a fuckin legend-

I think this was flawless all the way through with structure and wordplay

Its a process of deletion when i spit scriptures//
My ill testaments will rip ya, and hard punches will shift ya//
you gonna be callin for help when verbz penetrate ya//
Ima lyrically grab this gat, unload a clip of humiliation, then let pain embrace ya//
Im giving you this sign, similiar to a prementition//
You cant throw blows wit me you outta condition//
And im...........outta position, if im not the hottest addition//
Shadow suits you right, incapable to make moves//
I spit fire so i bake dudes, Attemptin to make it big//
I got the authentik Intelligence to realized you spelled ya crew wrong in ya sig//

street i think yours was didnt get that good until the end u started off rhyming ya too much in your rhymes

__________________


The Black Wall Street