DISS TO DOPE CHRIS

DOPE CHRIS you hopeless can’t stable your skills so
You’re unable to thrill of fill minds whackness kills your flow
Couldn’t be ill with a sore throat, your girl flirting and all
And certain to fall in love with me I’m thug G stay on call
You couldn’t come hard with crazy glue on your lazy shoe
If rhymes covered in gravy and stew still wouldn’t be flavor true
You a psycho and like Geico you need a cave man you stand
Alone in the jungles of rap holding bundles of crap I don’t understand
Your pride is fake even with a knife you can’t divide a cake
Into equal parts your feeble art is that of Betty Crocker just irate
Crumbs in a plate, DOPE CHRIS there’s a barrier between your
Scheme and dreams turned into a nightmare now you can’t ignore
The silly possibility of even Freddy Krueger ready on you cumputer
To laugh at your rhymes while chilling in Elms Street’s Hooters
DOPE CHRIS you couldn’t be dope if you smoked coke and
Shoot heroin main line your lame rhymes a plain joke at hand