Yo dis cat wantin to battle the sickest,
bitch ima solja my rhymes are relentless,
to you and ya crew those wannabe bitches,
you couldent win this battle if you put your hands togeather and prayed to the lord,
cause im liable to lay you on the floor,
and stranggle you with the microphone cord,
and make you choke you fake you wannabe dope,
you cant think straight like when you masterbate cant get rid of ya soap,
by the third line I spit you lost all hope,
you a fake mcee that wont win agenst me cause you cant cope.