aiight:

you rhymins girlish, compared to chick flicks/
I spit into mics, you a fag, u spit onto dicks/
lickin ya lips when you see "Ru Pual," thinking it's chicks/
you throwin kicks see I'm swinging a death-fist/
my lyrics r so cold, I'm turnin the mic to ice/
ya career here was over b4 it started like ya name was Obie Trice/
your flows roll off the tongue like a flat tire/
yeah u a rookie, but u need to retire/
u got no "method man" so I'm givin u a "blackout"/
my shit is so hot, i leave u burnin like a crackhouse/
you always got a "prick" in ya throat that why they call you "tackmouth"/
I'm runnin the mainstream u better stick to the back-route/

Fuck yeah I peeped Estilo, nobody told me to bring a pillow/
ya shit is so sad it leaves me weeping like a willow/