ya flow stink like teeth thats rotten
got the master mind plotting
how to turn ya text-written, to tolet tissue with shit stains spottin
i rather put my hands on a glock
while u rather put ya hands on u'r cock
and strach N itch,
plus u'r punch-lines feels like a slap from a bitch
u aint much to handle, like acrobatics u bound to flip
make u look up and slap down ya lips
watch u cry then ask if u like how it felt
right befor i blast the metal from ya belt
take ya walet N piss on ya face N call the feeds
cuz u'r career like powder with no water expecting to make breed
and i'll chop off ya neck to help u come off the top
its like a yellow light my bullets wont stop
till ya face look all blue like unifor for cop's

BITCH