Do you really think that phony name will relieve ya shame,
you can't even spell chaos right so ya mom is to blame/
her baby's a moron and he enters every match handicapped,
you look gay like a Catholic priest cuz little boys eat up ya cany-raps/
I'm in a top-ranked position to incsrcibe horrific descriptions of ya death in a text battle so vivid,
kid, rappin I live it, you like a toilet so get shitted, if you think you won then forget it/
man look at your sig, if that ain't homo, what is?
poking people in the ass must be your method of win-in/ (ha ha a gay win inside the ass)

I see you got split personalities and two of them is feminine, (his avatar)
if only one third of you is man, if you won that would make you a heroine/
my punches belittle your verses like a street baller verses Julis Erving,
the only way that your shit could beat me is if you infect me with your annual herpes/

You suck in ya flows like the throat of pro-hoes,
and you too sensitive for text cuz theses punches bloody ya nose/
I cock an reload while you stop and think slow,
my verbs are so radiant that they give off pretty pink glows/
but you wearing pink clothes cuz ya boyfriend thinks it's kinky,
and evey night before bedtime, he makes you play wit his slinky/
I'm knock yo game of the map like hands across chess boards,
you whack in ya come-backs because it's a crook against a drug lord/