no need for good rhyme when ya scared to show-face like them iraq hoe's...
im know to wreck fo's N blow a little something with a tech-4 ...
heck-no hes aint gonna beat-me he already bit hes name Nostra-dam-us...
i top ya.. with a sharp-end...... dog u smell me like a knife to ya nostriol-N-spin-disk
fuck a verse give me the win like the last dude...
fuck battling..... so i guess u saw my verse from the last-dude....
i'll blast u N cut ya roots off like full-grown grass...
there's no attemp in this like thinking on hollowen if u could figuer out whos behind this mask-kid...
i'll full fledge so i'll toss ya body of the edge N repeat it befor u bleed...
theres no skate'in off like shoke feet awaiting to walk-off from hes new seed...
blahblah theres no hope just ya peepin out what i wrote...
from ya alis name N praying that i woulnt embarris him even with hes notes from me that hes wrote....

blah whatever

he aint show up....

im even sorry i took this long to dorp this but i had da munchese cuz a nigga high...