Aight this is jus done quick so bring what you will playa.... no beef...

This kid comes clean reppin str8 from St.Paul...
That must be the minister who raped him in the choir hall//

I take polaroids of my victims like deranged mad men...
Like Vanilla Ice i'll make your ass a one hit has ben//

Jason Vorhees and that nigga Michael Myers...
Sit there an spit while your life expires//

My lines aren't like art they actually take skill...
sharp like a butcher knife will scar and kill//

I can't believe I'm battlin this Nigga Dice-Roller...
Slicin off his arms n legs, leavin him in a baby-stroller...
This kid musta forgot his mic in his drink holder//

Thats where it belongs not infront of his mouth...
You'd know hed rather be on his knees headin down south//

Lyrics end this kid like a mic turned to uzi...
Spits have him twistin and turnin, he cant right his verse back cuz hes woozy!//

Peace....