whatever...here we go...

im from tha windy city, but ur bout to get blown away, wit those weak ass rhymes u should have ur rhyme book thrown away//
ur comin at me wit rhymes an punchlines so weak, Cobra's shits so borin it could put an insomniac to sleep//
u spit sushi on japan an i spit fortunes onto china, my dicks like a gun when i grab ur mom, cock it, an get up behindah'// (behind her)
see...im impossible to knock down like a 7-10 split, how u gonna say my shits plain when urs is blander than gritz?//
whatu talkin bout?...ur more clueless than alicia silverstone, ur like a useless celly wit no signal an just ta dialtone, its amazin u didnt hurt urself when u pickd up tha microphone?, cuz ur tha kinda retard to ask for my autograph over a telephone//
u need ta understand my shits so hot itll leave u wit blisters, when ure shits comin gayer than nude queers playin twister//
ure really tha american pie cuz ure drinkin tha beer wit tha semen, u best be prepared to lose on any given sunday like willy beamen//
dawg...dont front like u tote guns like fidy cent, cuz u just got wacked more times than at a masturbation tournament//

just a little sumtin sumtin.

uppin votes...