ima half ass dis shit

there's nothing left for you to say, man you got the foolish shooks
cause you suck at rhymes worser than vacuuming up dr. seuss's books
i'll have to try and settle down, im chasing you too quick unto your death
you'se like a midget on treadmill with this battle, a little short-of-breath
so you know I got most of yall roasted this gone be your last day
dogg i'll smoke your ass so bad your bodybag was actually an ash-tray

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