man fuk all that time i want this battle kwik kwik
ok lets go...
ill split-n-seperate, diss-n-decimate, twist-ed-hate til ur verse is left-in-bits//
dirt-e-clits, wit aids fulfillin ya mouf is the closest u cum to dead-ly-spits//
disept-ur-hits, 'slicin' my way fru dis 'tart' dis battles a 'peice of cake'//
spit so mux 'information' at ur 'brain' ill configurate ur 'mental' state//
then abuse ur fiskal shape ,just escape or ill make u lead a life of mysery//
how u saw urself having anygrounds in this battle was just a curse of imagry//
now wit spits of 'wizadry', ima 'spell' ur demise easily, i deal sik 'triks' like 'merlin'//
then 'hurl' this prik around the 'ice' like i was rappin 'olympic hurling'//
my 'punces' keep reoccuring, u in a 'daze' whilst im 'attacking' ur fisikal stature//
corrode and deteriorate ur wanabee flsh by lettin my lyricals smak ya//

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i got a 6 ounce chain 5 ounce chaps//
200 pounds and a phone that flaps//
boi got rude so he held a few slaps//
i boxed him twice n he had to collapse//