First off, bitch
You must be anemic, you bleedin' all ova ya verse before I even peeped it/
Now I know why u leakin', ya skills speak in volumes, "Divine Secrets of the Yaw-Yaw Sisterhood", I keep it/ (Pussy Bleedin')
Real wit mine homie, why is you lyin' homie, how you come to grips wit ya feminine pitch, it's all good/
We all know yous a bitch, you fake thug muthafucka, but u do like "Boyz in da Hood"/
Your voice is no good, you don't rap wit pain in ya vocals, dats ya strep throat/
How many of ya songs was "guest" wrote, lemme guess, MOST, cuz your text's a joke/
I turned to God so he could deliver me, I might give chivalry, fuck your light-switch delivery/
I'm on a health kick, I'm servin' up roots and 'herbs', 'fruits' and veggies/
But you is like a 'Cookie' chasin' me all over the web, see/
Beggin' me for donations for the "Help Chrit become an M.C." foundation/
No one likes a know-it-all, dats why ya life is slow-and-all, you'll never make it/
Save it, your shit basic, face it, Mad Man just wasted it/

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