I'm sky high, still niggaz try'n-ta fly by like coke runs from Isle. 5.//
4,3,2, and 1 are all mine, gettin' past the defences result in Wyla Dying.//
this cat's defenceless, if this was wrestling you'd recieve a pile-driving.//
my lyrical hench-men arrive rhymin', no edits needed ta have enemies benched then.//
they call me "bent" man, 'cause there's no comparing to these lines, or how I "flex"-dem.//
infect this game with an epidemic like bubonic plague pestilence.//
supa-sonic flames catch ya head, burned at the steak, wench ya-dead.//
learn from mistakes and quit while you're ahead, a TKO is tha best ya-get.//
when I release tha flood gates flow, it takes ya breath from chest.//
this herb got twisted up in the wrong blunt, I don't respect shit cest.//
only the best chronic need apply, lethal minds that produce death in the first episode, which means no sequels Wyla.//
you can't be an equal rhymah with style that sounds like beagles whinning.//
howling like off key accapellas that softly off-ya-tallent.//
drop-ya-challenge to nothin' more than a joke, that's why I'm clownin'.//
tha crowd's astounded by tha mountains of countless fountains.//
turn on the tap, and flow out with profound malice.//
I pound fake cats doubtless, until they senseless and with-out witts.//
If this kid was a bitch, he'd be "without tits" 'cause all he's got is "flat" scripts.//

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