Aight look

I’ma start this verse out with somethin nice/
You remid me more of Tupac than you do Vanilla Ice/
Not because your flow but because you’ll be more loved dead/
Dog, its painfully obvious I’m already in your head/
Hey man, my fear is its too lonely up in here/
Better have another beer so maybe your thoughts aint so queer/
Thats right I now your secret bout little boys like Jacko/
Ask em to play with your VD infested toy son you’s a whacko/
Now instead of callin you gay I’ll just put a dagger in your heart/
You got a better chance spittin lines bought at Wal-Mart/
Sorry to break it to ya but you’re a second rate emcee/
Mr. T would beat Rocky before you could contend with me/
Fuck 187 records your record should say 1 win 8 losses and 7 no decisions/
So fuck quil-spit and the beef you got with King Chrit cause your punches are missin/
Going against the king you’s nothin but a jester/
See I’m the hustler you’s just a verse molester/
I’m holding court and you’re about to be convicted/
Taught your flow some gymnastics, bitch I flipped it/
So before I finish you off lets take some time to reflect
Look in the mirror and you see the head of a crew thats barely even won yet/