The mista is back at rapping, coming through doing some soul clapping
The top kings of open mics is back and i ain't backing down from no kat
3 years being in the game, you think i fell down quicker than vanilla ice music?
To me that's so ammusing, My hot flow's will leave you dried up, punches wil leave bruises
You beating me? That's only illusion, Kid i'll leave you on dr.phil with your deform face on T.V
Please belive me, call me a bad shrek, cause i'll leave you scared and shaking with your sweats
Read my sig, i'm the one who hold all souls, Verbally creating havoc and leaving lungs fold
My spits missles "so" cold, Your hot spits can't defrost it, leaving big pimples, size of dimples in you hoe
keep fucking with me, i'll leave your brain a see through, have your blood so wet with dew
Mista=the verbal doctor taking away your sick flu, make you disappear, when i say your name they'll respond "who"
Nah you ain't going to heaven, cause my sharp scapels is cutting your sacred wings
C'mon enter my world, where you will be own, and be my lil puppet with strings
Fuck the heat your bring, you writings couldn't elevate if you attatch your pencil with springs
I'll cutt your coffe table legs off, so your rhymes can't be hyper than mines by drinking caffeine
I'm telling you my shit got that hydro pump, Like a marine leaving you drowning in the sea's.