i'll murder you in this battle son, my bars'll be catchin ya dead
'n if the votings split down the middle..it's just matchin ya head
sonny you ain't clever. your thoughts are the type to roam
'n next, you'll lose your memory..when my fists RAM into your dome
faggot. you admire men 'n enjoy fillin up their holes
like football conversions, you love being in the center between 2 poles
ya drop the same typa bars in every verse, your similes are the worse kid
but how can ya drop so many likes in ya verses, when no one likes ya verses?