It's a sad day in age when you lack your name-
Lyricly strain'd...
..I popped ur pimple...but infact was ur brain
Who u playin...Kid...you aint reppin Di Game-
I could spit wit rust in my viens...
.............And still dis-array Creat's Frame
I see strait thru you...like cathedral mural's...
Bein in your crew..Im like a tiger wit squirell's
You can verse ur's in plural...and outcome stays...
Maybe in the old format u win....
.........................but you can't even sway-
Back away...Bitch...my spit will never stray from great...
I only feed off hate...multiply...add and take create and rape....