Man you can't fuck wit my lyrical content...
You can't go the same road that I went, I'm God-sent...
To battle on here you get your moms consent...
Your name is youngblood cuz you probably still only 8 years old...
You probably only do whatever the fuck your told...
Youngblood it may be because your of no use...
or maybe in the womb you became a child of alcohol abuse...
Like liver cancer in your system my lines will kill ya...
Hannibal Lector like my lyrics will grill ya...
So hurry up and come out here and spit yo lines...
then hurry back to bed and let mom read you your nursery rhymes...
You probably still think this is kindergarden....
My lyrics be throwin punches like we main eventin Madison Square Garden...
1...2...3 your 4 to the 5 to 6... your down for the count...
But after 3 your already Ko'ed and out of this bout...
Like Fernando Vargas after gettin beat by De La Hoya...
Left battered and bruised nobody left to annoy ya...
Just takes your bumps and cuts and get the fuck out my ring...
Cuz the way I lyrically brawl, you'll never de-crown this King...
I got all the knights of the Round, slicin up bitches like Joan of Arc...
Let me be the first to tell you, you should suppress your art...
Like your battle record and retards double dribblin in basketball...
This shit is wrapped up and it can't be prevented no matter how much you give it your all...
Maybe next time you can go the whole DISS-tance...
Instead of crumblin like a soaked cookie at this very instance...
Peace....

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Man I need more work if you ask me lol.... Ah well... learn from my mistakes...