Ai Droppin.....

Yo Bx bomba.....
Your senseless attacks are feeble attempts at being abstract,
once my whip's cracked you'll ask reality for your mask back,
your living fiction it's a fact you've got the ideals of "the Lorax",
your "Hufflepuff's" been hacked and now I'm building like the Nasdaq,
had your LO bags packed but then a Kat snatched your knapsack,
saw an ill rhymer smoking crack and you asked him "yo pass that.",
Took that first toke for inspiration, addictions followed left you broke, now your smoking crackheads' TISSUES just to get that taste of coke.
What possessed you to provoke Pound with the power to invoke, so many smoker's to revoke that I'll make *Phillip Morris* choke,
So go hide behind your cloak and clench that "ciggarette" that's soaked, I'll let you smoke until you croak, now you're the "butt"-end of my joke.
I laugh at your persistant resistance of assisstance,
this egotist will get lost in his fallicious existence,
humored eyes glisten as "Bx Bomba's" missed punches stay consistant,
his cautious stance in this dance keeps him throwing from a distance.
Like Stephen King I'll disban this Bitches cross-ex while I stay "Shining" on the "The Stand",
Just the mention of tanned cans, dries out "The bomba's" salivary glands,
DONE! I played my "trump card" and took over foreign lands,
while he's trying to find a winner from already "folded hands".

*PhillipMorris is a Tobbaco Company