wake up son,u aint ill..u fantasizing like virgins on x-pills..
only time u make heat is when u create gun-steals..i lace 50 pounds on ur back and make u walk high-hills..and watch u and ur verse stumble like men in high-heels/
"look" u loose a limb when u fuck with him, dat be "I"..u betta crawl under somethin and hide..befo i bum-rush yo shyt like FBI../
and i didnt even have to drop, i could of beat'cha with my greatest hits..dats what i should of done, cuz u aint ready fo my latest shyt/
keying like u str8 thugg but surrounded in white poverty.. u violating da G'code so pay da fee while i take yo property/
"u loose" just fo being a imposter..u rap-acting ass nicca, "huh, heres a oscar"..
take it as i break ur body down like cooked lobster..
and after dis ko, dont even try to get back on my "battle roster"...
just respect da kid, like a member of the" Trench Coast Mafia"