know you feelin this shit, you can tell that i spit for days/
that's why in a hurry to die like you livin with aids/
my flow is so ill that SB should ban me/
on the other hand, you couldn't even get a buzz if you sold yo albums to ya family/
you fuckin wit the wrong one, i'm not soft/
my guns treat you like cupcakes, before they eat they lickin ya top off/
infared pointed at yo head, i am the scoper/
you get a thumbs down like a bad movie rating from ebert and roper/
i don't copy rhymes, my shit is too rare/
cuz my rhymes is all natural like alicia keys hair/
take it to the streets, you still wouldn't beat this/
you couldnt fine the light cuzz you died from tha heatclip/