Chrit, I've seen ur shit n i admit u got tight rhymes/
but i spit tight lines, find ur shine is soon to be mine/
noticed lately you've been shakie spittin game at the rookies/
listen blud, i kill ya kind like fat boys eat dem chocolate chip cookies/
seriously, mark this day as a murder mystery, put u in misery/
words stingin up ya face like killa bees/
i type bars that star in pages of ma lyrical status/
ur verses curses dogg r fake, like da tits on Trish Startuss/
ma apparatus stuns ur practice showin up all ur faults/
dey shocking up ur own thrown like they thousand of volts/
ill come to hault...i kno that must have made u provoked/
jus spit ya lyrix dogg n let forum members to vote/

i kno its short but i dint hav much time, hit me bac dogg. i kno ur shit will b gud.