I'ma shatter ya brain an leave you tattered and maimed,
I'ma beat you like "after sex" so that when you piss, you splatter when aimed/*
I ain't no batter in games, nigga this is a matter of shame,
you constantly screamin westside bescause your fingers shatter my name/**
I claim you lame, intertwine your verse into a jumble of nothin,
you stumble when frontin, but like an herb you keep on wit puffin/
I step down to no man, you Oblong wit no hands,***
even if Canibus gave you some tips, you ain't got no pro-plans/
as a slayer you gayer than a mayor workin for partial paper,
you probably live on a farm out in nowhere with a family of Quakers/
"Pair-A-Dykes" and "Pair-A-Dicks", is that the best you can brandish,
that shit is about as old as the "Courtship of Miles Standish"/****
I'ma send you into relapse so you can recap each line bust ya kneecaps,
you gone end up like Somkey, edited outta the script, supposedly in rehab/*****
disgracin that name because you couldn't blend in wit ya own picture,
it's no wonder ya mom call the paper blockin the frame a home-made fixture/

*after you bust own and take a piss, you spray instead of stream
**This guy is always sayin "westside" when he post somethin
***That show The Oblongs has the father with no arms or legs
****a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow that's old
*****Smokey in the Friday series

fuck wit that.... and don't feed like and herb..... g'luck