I can't believe you actually wanna battle me/
You need to see an 'optometrist' cause bitch you can't see/
You'll just be another addition to my winning streak/
See I'm like 'SARS', whatever I spit causes 'illness'/
Your spit's like a 'temper tantrum', it's a 'fucking mess'/
See your gettin' scared, and your gonna tell your mom "Mad Man's coming!"/
And she's gonna say "Yeah faggot, I owe him some money.../
"In fact your actually his kid, isn't that funny."/
See you gonna be my bitch at the end of this rhyme, isn't that great/
Ima 'break you and bend' you and make you win 'number 8'/
See Ima put a gun to your head, and you'll pray that I stop/
But there ain't no stopping my fuckin' glock/
And Ima send you to hell on a first class flight/
And you will replace Double Down tonight/ (Look at bottom of sig)
Because your rhymes can't put up a fucking fight./

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