you guyz suk yo n ya aint 2 gud eitha
im a hav ya hood teeta fa reel yo



































































































































































































ha, bad news rap dudes.

I’m best here, no one can defeat me officially.
Watch me take GM…And beat him Initially.
Only label to ya name in the form of a General Manager.
But when it comes to ya girl, know that I’ll in General, Manag’er.
You men are just scavangers, and it’s not just Gon' Losing.
Cuz it’s been known, Roger Moore…of a bitch in a Bond movie.
I’m not an alias, so save ya thoughts and doubts.
While y’all accept this Clock’n…slap the Flava out ya mouth.
Cuz ya time is up, and I thought Glocks had hype, wow.
But there’s no doubt when I Off lamp…it’ll knock his Lights out.
Shocked by rhymes now? As I pause to make and scrypt a meek rap.
Or do I have to eat cats, and Pasta…waive on my victory lap.
Punches disrupt any Browser open, so all you pawns, cons, and bimbos wait.
Fists I call Romeo and Juliet,
cuz when it comes to “Yond,A window breaks”.
Treat this cypher like a hate crime, it’s a pleasure to hurt gays.
With such wack personalities,
That on a care Richter Scale…y’all would measure an Earthquake.
Sever ya merked brains, I’m too physical with malice.
And while every Catalyst you…it’s only cuz they have a Chemical inbalance.
Your writes trying to get away from your wack asses, sworn to go vacant.
To the point, ya Artery Locate…in an Organ Donation.
Go ahead, form ya quotations. While I turn ya spines into mince.
Running-back ya excuses, I’ll Touchdown…and Burn ya Line of Defense.