aight check it

imma split dis nigga wit a nine and some moonshine, he only has 30 minutes to think of a new rhyme,

its about time i rose up and took whats mine but how can i sindrome dont have a dope line,

youlike 50 cent you aint worth a dime the money you have is not from rap but from commiting crime,

you shit is busty and sour like a lime, i sick you the finger and tell you to read the sign, fucking poor bitch, i come out and shine,

you nothin but slime, while you eat shit im in ma prime, you cant rap yo gimmick should be a mime.

now who dunnit who smoked ma mutha fuckin kronic imma blast one in sindromes fucking stomach,

whats wrong wit you kid are ya sick or ill well ive got the syndrome ta fucking kill, now pussy dont pop that pill,

yo you wont make it in this rap buissness,cuz your syndrome and you illness, ive got tha power ta spill this,

my style will hit you like a shotgun at three feet, what are you crazy,you cant defeat me

rapping this kid unda the table was pretty fun, but i didnt even try i havent begun, i still have lyrics thatll hit any mutha fucka like a ton,