Yo, yo, yo . . .

*clears throat*

These phat bars turn wack cats to "track stars",
they're "runnin' in shame"/
You "faker" then the "bling-bling icon" thats "under your name"//
You claim to be "gangsta" . . . but we all know its "not true"/
In fact, you so wack "50-cent made a song about you"//
In battle you weak . . . with no metaphors or similes/
I'll erase ya whole existence, like a bad memory//
Ya "spits" like an "aggravating drip" from a "sink thats broken"/
You can't "spit", you must "swallow", yo I think he's "choking"//
I "pull" wack emcee's "down" like "gravity" to "kiss dirt"/
Only a bitch would call someone out, then tell them to spit first////



hit it up kid . . .

__________________
The Soul Purpose LP . . . Summer '04