Mr mayhem goes down every night like the sun at sun-down
I'm always on my raps while yours are a lyrical conundrum
I leave ya with more "tight (w)raps" than extra small condoms
I'm gunning for presidents like Harvey Lee Oswalt, son
I shoot for more paper than a loaded staple gun
I got this battle on "lockdown" like a "drunken Bobby Brown"
People, I'm bound 2 be found undaground like labs in "Resident Evil"
This dude is such a loser his hand wants to see other people

Your rhymes wouldn't be on a roll, if they were weed in a joint
You need to "sharpen" ya lyrics so they are "more to the point"
All talk and no punches, that all ya telling me
Like "rhymes for $500" I put ya lyrics in Jeopardy
Talkin bout "four fifths to squeeze em" no wonder no-ones feeling that
Only time this dude touched a heater is when he adjusted his thermostat