Whatever u write, “it was written” like nas soph albums,
Call me christ, I’ll shoot you down with all god’s talents/
vendetta you maintain’s a game, like def jam on sony,
purchase my shit in a few years, only way that u’ll “own me”/
Get out ‘here “kid”, only reason u rap’s for more headroom,
To get noticed by mike, and get invites to jackson’s bedroom/
Even if you spit your “ass off”, men somehow find ways in,
Your clueless on the outside, f***ed in the mind, and blind within/
I’ll leave u like a period, bloody, but more often than women,
wait….two birds killed with one stone: cuz you pussy’s beginning/
To flow with red while I flow with words,
metaphorically I push more “weigh” than “curds”/
and I pack more “shells” than your tropical necklace,
With rhymes I spray 8k’s, and your left tech-less/
Your verse’ll make dumber, vice versa: broaden your vision,
But who gives a f***, you’ll be too scared to “drop” like “soap in prison”/
Throw out my nyquil since khaos puts me to sleep,
and stock up on advil cuz colombian’s a poser like avril/
Hitchhike out this site, recite rhymes right away, then..
f*** youself, cuz you’ll do all that work and you’ll still get fated/


aite once his spits his lets get it goin.....


-OuT PAYCE-

__________________