aight

check,check

Blake aka. no mental wealth cause your spittin Non-Cents//
If you was Jehova's nose your flow still wouldn't be god sent//

yo yo yo

You couldn't throw-out hot punches with a duffle bag full of S.T.D carryin boxers//
Crew? i'll bury your Roster, as i carry incurable sickness like deceased Doctors//
I admit this dudes like god, cause he'll never be ill//
Rapbattles is like killin Michael Jackson, cause with you they'll never be thrilled//
your check in is always the best part of your whole verse//
after readin this you have no chance so why would you consider me going first//
your click is a bunch of squares, bet i could rap circles around them//
the way I got you screamin Jesus! you woulda thought I was Nas's last albumn//ha
like mathematical banned wars, i'm beatin you without a problem//
you couldn't drop hot if god gave you a top with a Match-ing bottom//ha
i'm kinda like your neighborhood trashman, cause we both know that your garbage//
this is like burnin down a Marijuana plant, I makin this Herb carnage//

AWW MAN!!! ha

aight kid...OUT