young blaze, cant rap, and ya too young ta use razor blades,

to shave the peach fuzz off ya ugly face, such a fuckin

discrace, instead of slappin yur ass the doctor sprayed ya

with mace.

My rhymes are born to kill, ill hit ya harder than tyson will,

and sit ya fuckin urn on ma window sill. You be the type of

nigga who be poppin pills, with the shakes and chills, robbin

the tills from good will,(BITCH).

Sayin you be rollin with knives and guns? Your a lyin nut

sucker who was raised by nuns, sittin in ya back alley playin

dice for cinnamon buns. Here I am bitch, better run, cuz now

ya done!!!

__________________
Phive Is standing Tall