so u call urself metaphysical, u even know what that means?//
u signed up for a battle wit SPL!T, we the rap producin machines//
battlin me will have u contemplating suicide//
and i suggest u do cuz there's no where for u to hide//
when i unleash all my full blown hate//
and ur whole entire body just begins to desipate//
as i stand before u, ready to attack, cuz all ur shit is whack//
u got the balls to spit it but do u got tha balls to back?//
no respect to whack rappers like you//
better prepare for ur funeral cuz thats just what i do//
ill unleash a full fledged war on u, like bush on saddam//
and by the way dawg i still owe some money to ur mom//
these battle rap tactikz comin stright of da top of my head//
a few minutes of this skillfullness will leave u lifeless and dead//
by now i think u understand, my ransom and demand//
just quit quit the rap game dawg while ur still alive and able to stand// i almost feel sorry for causin u all dis stress//
maybe this shit will teach u not to fuk wit da best//
with an optikal iluzion, send u into a vortex of confusion//
lemme guess, u call urself a soulja?//
ima train u like a dog bitch "come here boy, roll ova"//
im almost comin to the end but that dont mean ur off the hook//
heres a couple dollars son, go buy urself a rappin book