To get your rhymes, you had to work off your ass//
You spent 3 hours, but i scribbled this in english class//
My game is larger than Pamela Anderson's tits//
My flows to hot to handle, you'll need oven mitts//
Anubis? That's the god of the dead//
If you havent died, i'll pop you with some lyrical lead//
Id say you are a has-been, but youve never been good//
Maybe thats cuz you grew up in Malibu, and not in the hood//
You rock a cross, but your rhymes arent a sanctuary//
If you had a win, it would only be temporary//
Your rhymes are sad, their an Aria of Sorrow//
You didn't write your raps, they've been borrowed//
Your flows are dirty, they need to bathe//
The only thing to rap you are is a lyrical slave//
Your rhymes sound funny, like folks from the Dirty South//
Balls and Cock are the only reasons to open your mouth//
My flows are old school greatness like Chrono Trigger (SNES game)//
You think youre black just cuz you say "What up my Nig***"(Im white get killed if a say it lol)//
4-3 vs. 0-0 Why is this even a battle?//
My rhymes are juicy, like cooked up cattle//
Your flows are weak, they scored a 150 on the rap SAT//
Im the Dr.Phil of rap i got a PhD//
As i finish this battle i say to myself that wasnt right//
I just 5-0 Ko'd didnt even put up a fight!//

Peace!