he calls himself the blunt mc..cuz the only thing he burnt was his dick and weed/
he doesnt want a battle..he just wants to get on a saddle/
the only way he can be country..thats how bad he wants to beat me/
but he has better chances beatin his meat..its only half a feet/
im more like a foot long..he laughs now..only cuz im gon/
jelouz of more then my skill..the boy say he want me killed/
but he cant even pay his studio share..an he works with cher/
what if he were a glock..he would only be cocked an freezed/
couldnt bring me down to my knees..cuz i smoked his trees/
ill rip you like your tie in the shredder..so high he askin mice for chedder/
so whats my next words MC..you dyin for help/
what kind of lyrics do you write..pop or on the shelf/
blaze your crazed my words leave you thinkin for days..only then youll relize that your words are gay/
you say that im wearin my kryptonite chain..an that i have no brain/
thats why you wont pass my test..cuz youll die in iraq just like the rest//