Im gonna leave a fatal injury to this wack and weak emcee//
Rip him to the last degree and leave his sorry ass suffocatin in debri//

Cos Im filled with rage,toxic thoughts and corrosive in tone//
I spit cyclones and Im bout to make this bitch prone to chocking-syndrome//

Guns of lyrical-ammunition,roaring races of clips//
On top of the game,blockin out fgee spit like a lyrical-eclipse//

Cos If I spat minus 2 words I'd still take this battle into account//
And if I got the world to vote on my side you'd still want a re-re-count//<--(A second re-count)

In conflict I afflict strict pressure like fgee's mommas dick//
And fgee's spit is an unknown "theory" like a David Blaine magic-trick//

I roll with "Mathmatikal" and Im bout to "divide" this punk to microscopic shred//
And make this bitch "invisible" like if we changed the topic to fgee's head//<--(No head)

So stick to your nation,and admit being "kilt"//<---(Kilt-Scottish-Killed)
Cos your blood was always gonna be dripped like your ink spilt//

Aigh,uppin votes