Aye Mister.,..my rhymes come for you sinister, I "pop" you like a blood blister,
He rhymes bitterish, lines in "jibberish", like he was sayin a "tounge twister".
No lyrical vocabulary, I'm ya adversary...so now ya luck's done,
aha..this fake is proud of bein from the same town Buck's from.
He states he's tha president, this bitch is an herb thats lost this,
I'm like John Kerry, he's a "Bush"*, and I'm takin his term of office.
Hit knowledge into you, his rhymes are weak,
the future is here, your future is bleak.
People thinkin its an accident, but the result of the slaughter is evident,
I lyrically assisinate "Mr. Washington", now he's a "Dead President."

*Pussy.