Yo, your public profile lists your job as fucking 'money getter'
I'm about to drive your ass insane like an itchy Christmas sweater.
Your rhymes are weak, uninspired, paint-by-numbers to the letter
Gingerbread in the fuckin' house; with you Mom's there is no better.
I'm set to flip the script on you, like a metaphoric giant
Rapin' fronters in the dome like the lyrical Kobe Bryant.
You's a fag, 29, a pussy. Go apply your Mom's cosmetics
Straight out of the Bay, home of the queers, and, ummm... the Oak Athletics.
It's not your fault that yous from Oak-town, but you'll get your just desserts
You can't catch me, I'm the Gingerbread Man! Sorry, dawg....DaTruth Hurts.

peace.