yo blas, you couldn't rhyme your way out of a soggy paper bag//
not even if i ripped it open and gave you a helping hand//
I'm like calculator, i output big numbers//
to preserve the rhymes i don't use, i pickle 'em like cucumbers//
you so wack that you're no longer welcome in my house//
you suck twice as much as ever much like a whore with two mouths//
you fucked up blas, challenging someone like me, above your class//
you gettin' your shit pushed in, like a lyrical dick in your ass//
if you spit out loud you shit'd have no flow//
my rhymes flow from small streams to the gulf of mexico//
I make weak cats buckle back at the knees//
so simply as if affected from scurvy//
you're not a rapper, fuck what anybody said//
couldn't be black if i dumped a can of paint on your head//
you should've practiced, nigga, it takes a little time//
on your next post your probably bite 20 of my rhymes//
j-fix mix his shit up like cake mix//
he get his, blas is still learning the basics//