"All a man has in this world is his word and his balls"
And I ain't breakin mine for no one, not a single one of you'all...
Brooklyn's thinkin he's Frank, figurin he can bank, on takin my ass out.
But lyrical Scarface is about to replace, move in and take your clout.

Parkinson's has inflicted your rhymes, you've lost your battle stance...
No offense to The Greatest, but you're like Ali tryin to tap dance.
Motor skills shot, old disses bought, this Unit don't belong in the ring...
He's run a whole lot, and barely got caught, but that's a short-lived thing.

Sometimes the sweetest wine is squeezed from the grapes of wrath...
This sounds graceful, but in fact it's hateful, like a hellhound in your path...
Cause I'm that dog, that'll bite your log, leave you dickless and delirious...
And just in case, spit it back in your face, to let you know I'm serious.

I've drowned this Unit with a lyrical bloodbath, look at the mess I've made...
You've sunk so far, you'll never be found, like an plane gone down in the glades.

Fuck showin mercy, I've made Brooklyn feel like Jersey.

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Merkings will occur Monday thru Friday, 8 am thru 5 pm, C.S.T.
For my convenience, not yours!