Aight look


here it comes

Its the return of King Chrit....

Look son, you need to elevate before you step to me/
Try ya hardest but those punches can at there best uppercut my knee/
Simplistic thug shit from a rook and you think you got the King shook?/
Go back to lyrcist school and study up, illiterate fuck, go read a book/
Your vocab is mediocre and your name cries for me to rip in to ya/
How's a kid gonna beat me named after a boot shaped peninsula/
I like Italian seasoning but I just dont have the taste for this herb/
Merk his ass, force him to retire leave him spittin his nursery ryhmes on the curb/
Why you frontin man, you a little bitch that runs from fights/
Forget nines and 44's my lyrical jabs will put out ya lights/
It feels good to be back, time to resume the rookie killing/
You an undercard at this venure, only King Chrit can take
top billing/
Sorry to break it to ya Italy, your career is over... turn in your mic/
Resume your roll as groupie kiddo... fetch me some water, you know the kind I like/
cherish this lesson son, this was your retirement verse/
So fade away into oblivion... and dont forget your purse/
Thats right Italy... you're just a new bitch to fuck up/
Use and abuse you and remember after this to shut the fuck up/
I feel bad for the voters who have to sort through your 20 lines of jibberish/
But just to follow suit.... blah, blah, blah, blah... YOU'RE FINISHED/




***edited for spelling mistakes***