no games str8 to work...............



yo
im bout' to get physical/take cova while i spit atchu/
ya heart rate go's critical/as u burn, my words are key-lite fuel//
i take no prisoners no mercy like tha wwe/
i get high offa rippin' foos like ur momz wit a jcpenny shopin spree//
im no god but u still bow str8 b4 me/
wont drop? thats fine this 9's aim right atcha knee//
il teach u wat a diss be/cuz i spit'em so consistantly/
nickname my flo SWV/ cuz afterwards ul wanna kiss me//
but ima end ya fantasy quicky/i c face is strickly dickly/
u wanna ride this homies dick like ned flanders all up
in homers shit/ but i say no, im no ho midly mo didily//(hehehehe)
i'd like to apologise in advance u really gave rap a decent chance/
but u rappin makes as muchsense like 2 parapolegics tryin to
dance//
drastic measures must be taken/ur mc soul has been forsaken/
cerible-pulsy is u new name cuz my verse has got u perminantly shakin//
this verse should be named tha u.s. mint my victory is so locked in/
while u stand there wit that puzzled as face -_- im chillin wit a grin//
u couldnt see tha finish line i got ya vision all merky/
my rhymes like thanksgivin turkey/ ur shits cheap n processed similiar to beef jerky//

thats it i ran outa room