your shit is basic & your wordplay show me your instincts 2
your phatness refer to chunky cuz your tin is full of cubes like beef stew
a fucking inevitable concerning punches you just can't stick em in
a sore thumb sticking out when your back drop shit you fail 2 blend in
seeing that sexual frustration got you spitting that way
radio reject your flow cuz you blow his bitch and fucked the air play
this i-net fag that if Tom erase his myspace pic it would ruin his social
textual deprived that he'll kill his pen pals when he goes postal
you can't take nothing back cuz the postion of your cornrolls leave your thoughts open
with more space between them than a rolling doughnut and a legless Ethoipian

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