Battle killah kassius, shit it looks like imam bout to murder Ali//
After me every number in your records gonna be twice the previous, no more 12-3// (from 12-3 to 1(2)-4)
A sik speakin’ Puerto Rican from Kassville, so that’s how you billin’ yourself//
under “interests” you should’ve put “suicide” cause battlin’ me, son, your killin’ yourself//
It’s obvious imma win this shit, that’s just one point we should be clear on//
Before you find yourself in the hospital on intravenous bein’ injected wit’ interfons//
Like Aryan movements in the South Bronx, son you’ll never catch on//
your ideas of dominance are misplaced, is best you don’t even respond//
your brain waves are too shallow, you couldn’t possibly follow me//
forget metaphors and analogies, you only time you spittin’ is after you swallow me//
just to teach opponents I dissect contenders apart to reveal they weak components//
and strengthen myself with the rest, but you’re so phony that the latter is erroneous//
I’m a genius and you’re style is too UNDERDEVELOPED, DICK, like a fetus’ penis//
The only reason I’m not slittin’ your throat is because it’s not time for the circumcision, you better believe this//
this competition is mis-matched, like jew-nazi blind dates at concentration camps//
cause I’m the only one handin’ out dope sentences like DEA adjudications, man//
shit, you’re lines are so gay that they come equipped with anal scars//
c’mon, I’m battlin’ the first fag to show up with a case of anal SARs//
like when you’re girl rides me, son you’re just another FUCK UP//
you should’ve closed your mouth, that bitch should’ve just kept her legs shut//


spit . . .