Beat= Biggie Smalls "Dead Wrong"

you couldn't have a good chord if you were a fender.// <---fender guitars
you better learn to put weight on the bars, 'cause dawg I'm-a bench presser.//
lift you over my head and drop you, still compared to the sound you make the beat sounds better.//
ya words like aged chedder, if it don't get worse, it only gets better,//
but at the moment you not even a contender.//
I bend-yer neck back 'till it snaps and still ya heads not as crooked as mine, ever...//
I'm like lined ledger, I define the borders in ya sentence.//
a menace.. evil and mal-nourished, hungry, but your lyrics so empty I couldn't feed of your verses.//
how you expect to grow if your seeds not even planted, get down to earth kid.//
I'm firmly rooted like an evergreen, natural beauty un-like your synthetic schemes.//
sympathetic pleas, warlord's down on his knees.//
his-majesty's crown's being handed to me, as I spread my merkings like a rampid disease.//
yo, I'm a tarus so I trample your keys, they not up to code so they sweat shop-factory steez.//
the only thing you good for is waxing my jeep....

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