heres ma real verse

Attacking u with complex multi-combinational abdomenal hits, sueing me for rapping is the only way you'll ever be rich/
Ur average by far, this is a different Story, a new chapter, never judge a book by its cover, read his verse, Title: Wack Rapper/
Snatchin ya vocal cords and lace them into my shoes, now my kicks are speaking to you,
bite my shit all you want, but u could never stomach the chew-thru/
I can play of your name all day, then perform this verse at your funeral serve, but instead I’ll let u live to give u an example of what what I’m capable-of/
It's over son you can go count your eggs, they seem to be hatched, like an obese kid on a see-saw, this battle is un-evenly matched/
I must be flawless on the mic the way I serve these no-vices, the closest u been to sex, is having ya pictures used as birth-control devices/
Your shit is plain (plane), while my rhymes simply rock-it (rocket), if i have to go thru you on my way to the top, then ****-it, Im boarding the cockpit/
If we were battling using our cocks u would fall short, u fall short of a gd composition like a computer error report/
Half of your shit does not make sense, u lack flow, and ya rhyme-scheme is shapeless – none, this battle is like a suicide trial, cuz u'll be dead regardless of the final outcome/
In God we Trust, please put this kid to rest he is ready to go, sexuality is like an angry volcano, this homo is always ready to blow/