Aight

Your rhymes are so old, the hair on them is turning grey, what can I say, except that you are "out of your league", like a "baseball player" trying to join the "NBA"
Im gonna shot you in your belly with my verbal gat, and toss your big ass in a fire so you can burn some fat.
Bet a million dollars that I can beat your rhymes at any cost, i “crucifix” your rhymes to get my point “a-cross” (across)
Man I will kill you and get away with murder like OJ, If rapping were “board games” I must be spitting “Scrabble” with all this “wordplay”
Im the lyrical rhyme pusher, with more “drugs” than your “local Eckerd”, going against me will only give you a loss on your battle record.
The way I use “deadly gas” on you, you would think that I had “lyrical farts”, I open your “brain” on the floor so you can “share your thoughts”.
Hit you with one punch, put up one finger, and have you seeing two, You would think my glocks were “Pokemon” the way the “Peak-at-you”(pikachu)
We must be playing “baseball”, your rhymes are the ball and mines are the bat, I rob your “Ice” and send you to “Arizona” so you can get your “Diamond Back”
You must be lyrically blind cause I spit shit you cannot see, you must be an “invertebrate” cause “lack the back” to stand to me.