How dare you get ya punk ass hyped for no reason//
You in a danger zone boy, like H.I.V. without treatment//
I'll make this shit short and sweet, the battle will be like you’re used too//
If I was bad guy, then I would just shoot you//
RB’s lyricist supreme, better heed the warnings//
You and metaphors are like leftover food, NASTY in the morning//
Compare me to Jay-Z, I think there’s a reasonable doubt//
Only difference: instead of a Cuban, i'd have a Garcia in my mouth//
Same mass appeal that cats can feel//
Whether in a 2003 Lincoln Navi or ’88 Bonneville//
I don’t even consider this a battle//
This is more me just showin’ off//
Consider yourself beaten after the first few bars I dropped//
This is gonna upset the regulars, and might gas up the newbies//
Like L.A. cops losin’ car chases, to 3 time felons spittin’ rounds with new uzi’s//
Lyrical exercise, no pre-written, nigga i'm a heavyweight//
Leave you knocked out cold, slouched in a position resembling a quarter ‘til 8//
You can try battlin’ me for days on end, or until God's kingdom comes//
Real m.c.’s still would only acknowledge your whack ass by saying, this nigga is dumb//
Fuck you, I'll kill you, drink your blood, and devour your flesh//
Dissolve your corpse in bleach, make ya ass fully refreshed//
Your slut speaks of unknown, pseudo philosophy//
Falsely, compared to Socrates, where did the election, no bureaucracy//
Stranded without defense//
Your victory remains imaginatively pretense//
I tried profusely to be free of anger//
But the transcendence of your mendacity caused me to become, a motherfuckin' banger//
Grab a dictionary, read with your hands, I minced your eyes//
And so begins the start of your demise//