Am-I-The-Best when I Rip the spine-of-this-Vet hittin uppercuts on his chin with lightnin-checks,
ya couldn't even Get the Right Grades if I recite-the-test with this Rhymin-fest,
I could give Sand my pen 2 write-ya-text but the illness of the ink is so concentrated you'll suffer from the side-effects,
you'd better read the guides-n-Rest cuz your questionable style is like psychotichs-who-answer-this with their lips-split,
Sand couldn't Come up With Sick-Shit if ya Mixed-with expired antibiotics-and-laxatives,
all your plastic-shit is fake like the Breasts of topless exotic-dancin-chicks,
And when u finally masterd-this I'll smoke you while rippin your Longs apart like Toxic-cancer-sticks,
my vocabulary is vicious it's like the words are usin sinister-tools,
even if i just had a chemotherapy cure i'll still be iller-then-you,
So lemme finish-this-dude who thinks he can be hot from the inside just cuz I boiled his Kidneys-in-soup,
u couldn't win a round if the lotery donated you a gun cuz I gas ya Chamber like Hitler-did-2-the-jews,
I'm Twistin-the-booze with Acid N leave ya style melted in an instant just like miniscul-cubes,
I'll encounter Math-A-Metics when punching he'll circle 7 Backflips like Acrobatics fuckin up genetics,
with masterd-mad-hits i'll last-the-wack-spits of breathless astmatics who cudn't even Attract illness when packin-magnets,
I'll trap-this-bastards for spittin with synthetic flows just too have designs of text on papyrus-scrolls,
I'm here-2-roll like jamaicans makin joints so My Punches Remain Sticky like The Plaque between your wack-jaws,
I'm cuttin into the Sands with Verbal hack-saws and hit so many lines untill the veins turn into a neck-straw.....

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LowerTown's Finest