Mr. "Truth", Sit Down,im about to "Hand Over Pain"~
Im Ill, "Get the Facts Straight", but ya cant "Cuz ya Gay"~
Get Smacked in the Face, till you have Nuthin to Taste~
My Style's "Monopoly Marathorns", Im "Running the Game"~
Call some Coroners, Using a Butterknife to Cut-Corners?!?~
If The Truth is "Common Cents", you couldnt Handle It "Touching Quarters"~
Run for the Border, like "Americans South of It", "Dont Test these Waters"~
Ya Rottin' in Coffins whenever I'm Droppin' the Bombs In~
Fuck This...Its My Ring.......Mr. Truth Dying......
if "Tears Were Red", heres a "Tissue for ya Wrist..its Crying"~
"Live Up to ya Name", sunshine, "Dont Touch Lines"...AND..Quit Rhyming


If tidying up were victory, i'd make like tissues..who do i clean-next?~
wipe ya spit from my face, i dont need ya re-speck
even if ya mispelt my words, ya couldn't c-tect~ (see text)
beat u pretends(pretense), past or future~
underground spitting aint rappin in sewers~
ya krap, manure..i'll win this, Em cleaned his closet, found u in it~
now ya finished, ya verse's another name for fat, the way ya lipid~
when u breath, ur in hell, im fast timin'~
I told Truth get the point, he stabbed his hand trying.