trill the 'chosen one' with no skill, my rhymes make him feel ill,penetrate his membranes like a pneumatic drill, ur win column reads nil,but i'm relaxed cos ur lyrics are 'run of the mill', whereas mine make people pay attention and stand still
when u rap into a mic its like nothin comes out, people dont hear your shit even when u shout, rappin about ur fantasy life, rumours and lies are rife, whereas my lyrics are to the point like a 'knife' 'shining' and 'stainless' my victims remain nameless, its by desire so dont enquire they'll always be fameless
just face it ur shit,longest ur career will last wud be a ten second skit, 'sukin off' the recording boss to get on it,he knew u were wack before u 'spit', all he wanted was sexual favours, u got on ya knees before his thought wavers, trill ur just a hurt 14 year old abused by mike jackson, molested in different ways afraid to take legal action, ur entire worlds collapsin, part of the wacko jacko faction,
ur mind all messed up ur seing 'black' and 'white', short on vision ur thoughts ur tryin to fight, sorry dawg but my lyrics are bright, a mental delight so tight, packin a lot of might explodin like dynamite, better watch ya self cos these lines got bite