Yea I'll inflict "pa1n" on your punitive stature
I'm "writing ya ass off" like an "anal graffer"
Total laughter, like "burn out boxers" I aint "feelin' ya punches"
Methemphetamine adrenaline rushes crushes Mon and puts him in crutches
Fucc it, SOON can't " touch this" like Jenna Jameson's tits/
Have you "come-buts"(combust) infront of me like propane tanks lit
"This 0ne" must've won some dumb intricate contest
Cuz I'm "rippin" you like packaging to the recipient context
Should've came protected when you came and faced I P
Cuz raw sex breaks through lyrical condoms that taste cherry
Arithmetic fow is equivalent to zero or four minus four
That means MONS 4 plus my punches equals maximum carnage on the floor
Like "hangin ya merchandise one display" for me to "hold up" the "store"
Fucc Rhyming, your shit's "sub-par" like the LPGA golf tour
Eyes acute from swelling, verbal punches take a swipe at ya belly
Boring as hell, Mon's more "talk" then an episode of "Regis and Kelly"
Like THC product, I fucc wit ya brains chemistry
You couldn't "put lines through me" with reflective symmetry
My symmetrical tendencies deplete emcee's to fractional trigonometry
And your idea of "wordplay" is "fondling dictionaries" of english termonoligy
You bout as accurate as the WRITTEN prophecies of blind men
Blind men spittin, your lines are understood as much as Swahili being taught to PMS'ing women....