You said ya rhymes would be beatin on my mind,
But they havent,
Instead of donating to aid with Hurricane Katrina,
They'd give it to you to stop rapping,
Those rhymes ya spit sounds like shit dropped by my little brother,
That flow hella weaker than my cancerous grandmother,
Can barely walk from getting fucked in the ass by my diss,
Disillusioned, Think your a girl so you sit down to piss,
So don't try me bitch, Cuz I'm the one good with weapons,
The freshmen at my school could pick you up, And they Preppies,