You ain’t expecting what I’m gonna throw at ya!

Aight, I’m gonna spit some hollow tips that’ll rip ya brain//
Have u talkin’ like a handicapped retard that’s on cocaine//
True banga leave ya numb like you've been injected with novacane//
My flow is insane//
So crazy I should be in the mental house, strapped and tamed//
Check it, I’m about to start packin’ the heat//
So I can go to ya hood and start jackin’ ya streets//
While u was on this rap site, your bitch was at my crib jacking my meat//
Me and you are two different types of meat//
You are chicken, and nigga I’m the beef//
You say you’re an all-star but don’t get too cocky//
This is gonna be a first round knock out, people startin’ to think I’m Rocky//
You the type of fag that has to sit down when you go potty//
Every time I spit a verse I leave your head spinning (The Exorcist)//
And it’s always good over bad, so you know that I’m winnin’//
(TAKES A BREATH)
Yo, yo, I got them type of bullets that tear through ya vest//
They leave ya organs exposed ya heart poppin’ out of ya chest//
And you think you hard ‘cuz you on house arrest//
But you probably got that shit ‘cuz you fucked a little boy at best//
The punchlines is leavin’ ya winded//
I take one crack at you and leave your battling license suspended//
It’s like this rhyme is a wrestling match, ‘cuz its a backbreaker//
So I guess you’re left with no spine//
Then my nine spits unlimited times//
So like Mortal Kombat, bitch ya soul is mine//