i'll find ya in tha street and leave blood clots in yo head/
so that your non-talented ass will never post another thread/
and then take advantage of your mom, an pop her cherry on YO' bed/
cuz yo' mom like peanut butter, she so easy to spread/
but gettin back to u, i'll leave yur soul contortin'/
cuz u like diddy, blaming others fo' yur own misfortune/
i already won this battle, so fuck wuteva u gonna' say/
I get mo' buzz fo' ma mixtapes, then u got fo' 3 tokes on yur "j"/
Greeny sweats when a threat comes and wrecks, him wit pressure/
bullets flyin at his dome, he headin' home fo' sayin sumthing extra/
I'll mangle your corpse and leave it, up in your driveway/
the only time you in tha hood is when u fixing yur 87 Chevorlet/
wit tha rhymes i'm writing, i should be a Politzer prize winner/
so i could criticize niggas like u, who softer than R&B singers/
there's nuddin more to say, cuz i know yur verse won't bother me/
just sum advice, quit rappin' and do like yo' momma wanted take up marine biology/