yo yo yo uh yi-yi-yo . . .


*clears throat*


Synikal was beaten as a child, now he's fighting the past/
This garbage emcee thinks he will last . . . I'll take him out like the trash//
You think that now since you're a mod your balls are big . . . but they're elfed/

I'll merk your whole crew of mods and make you all-dig for help!! //

The only question about my verse is which bar is hurting the worst/
The only way you get a stroke of genius is jerking off with my verse//
I tried to show Syn that his style really bites like chigger attacks/
I even called this wackass cat Tommy hoping Hilfiger out that he's wack//
Synikal the "Powerful Mod" thinks he's running shit but he's walking/
The only thing about you rising is all the hot air you're always talking//
I'm slaying your verse like Buffy, then clowning your ass like Krusty/

What makes this cat think he can touch me when he's more bitch-made then puppies?!?!? //

Syn has homosexual habits . . . he's a cream-filled Twinkie . . . like Hostess/
I rip this cat up like Sticky Notes . . . Syn is ducking my verse when I Post-It//
I killed this feline eight times, now he's bout to use up his last life/
I'll rip this skater dude's bars in two . . . now he spitting nothing but half-pipes//
I could care less bout your pride, my heart is cold like nights in the winter/
My verse is slicing Syn like collect calls . . . cutting right down the center//
My punches are like fly balls cause you go running whenever these-hit/
I'll change and rearrange your wack style and leave you beat like a remix//
I'll leave you depressed like alcoholics, now you're searching for beter years/
Synikals a 200 Proof fag . . . and I'm making his wackness Ever-clear//






*mic disintegrates*