You're poor, you battle for WAR instead of RAW cos you can't cut it
You ain't nuttin, shit, i'd take your lyric book and gut it
Must be smokin or suttin(something) if you think your shit compares
Goin nowhere like a cripple at the bottom of a flight of stairs
You ain't on my level, man this can't be called a tight fight
With a name like WhiteLight, shit, you must be talkin bout your night light
Your rhymes are wack, slackin lyrically you ain't jack
Fall apart quicker than an Al Quaeda's rucksack *.....

(*bag falls apart when bomb goes off, ya get it?)