We aint battlin bitched slapped, cuz im hittin you with closed fists.
and You cant even hit a punch cuz i cut your hands fell off your wrists.
Im blowin up in a mist, killin you bitch with every line that I spit.
Im spraying rhymes in shells layin your game in the ditch.
This battle shits a snitch. Im foldin you up like tissue.
U can get the fuck off this site because know one heres gonna miss you.
You’re a disease infectin my section for this election.
Im the primary runner, you’re a faggots reflection.
Like Miller Genuine Draft im keepin it real and smooth.
You could send a pack of wolves and I still wouldn’t move.
you just dont have a clue, ooo the Big Bad "what?'
well im made of bricks motha fucka, so that makes you a Mutt.