Checking in.

You think you can beat me but you must be dreamin’, they call you “Moby Dick” the way you swallowing “sea men”(semen),
If you spit out the sun, your rhymes couldn’t be bright, if I “left” you with “90 degreez”, your “angle” of spit couldn’t be “right”
I will beat you out of your “wheel chair” so you do the “Crip walk”, Your girl sucked my dick then kissed you and said my cum was her lip gloss.
You claim to have money but you got no cash, If you release an album it will "flop" quicker than a "fat person" doing a "belly splash".
If this cat spit the cold, he couldn’t be iller, You murdered a bowl of "Fruit Loops" and think you a "cereal killer"(serial killer)
You will go to jail for Faggot distribution, and battling me will be your execution.
When you are talking to me you better answer “Yes master” the only thing your rhymes are killing me of, is laughter
You the guy that gets fucked in his ass, and the friction starts a camp fire, man you "sucking" guys off more than "Vampires", Even though we battle, your spits I do admire, if you was “fixing a flat” you couldn’t “re-tire”
I beat you with “Crip Colors” and got you singin the “Blues”, getting killed on battle raps is the only time you make Headline news.
I slap the words out your mouth so you talking in mime, you went to buy some food but Lunchables don’t come with the Rhymes.