dam, I knew I won from the moment you spit, with yo “E Pills”/
“Show me stripes?”, bitch you haven’t even shown me yo skills/
you only BATTLED lame rappers, that’s how you got your record/
after this you’ll be sucking so much dick to say sorry, that you’ll neck hurt/
Q-B-Snype, wit yo shitty lyrics, you couldn’t do-me-nice/
you’re tha 2-3-type/
yeah all I need is 2 to 3 lines and kiss yo ass-goodbye/
I’’ll stick my dick up yo ass and have it come out-yo-eye/
tha only time you “Punch Lines” is when you’re mad at some crack/
you beat the shit out of your drugs, and add that win to your stat/
catch one to tha cerebral, your game isn’t true/
tattoo my prints all over your face to let them know that I touched you/
bitch you couldn’t call tha shots in your own apartment/
you’re the type to hold mase in your glove compartment/pussy
slow muthafucka, you’re like a turtle on weed/
I’ma fuck you up so bad, I’ll make your computer bleed/
did that bitch on your bed also spit what you wrote down/
your record’s a lie, it should be the other way around/
who’s this mark tryin to act like a ‘Snypa’/
fuck your baby raps, I’ll knock you back to yo dypa/
if you changed your name to Tupac, you still couldn’t enter a cypha/
your name is a disgrace, I wouldn’t even type ya/
you’re a fake thugg like a gangsta with a plastic pistol/
or like a hard mothafucka that listens to disco/
Q-B cuz you a Quitter Bitch/
your raps look like you had a computer glitch/
this aint a challenge, I won from the beginnin/
you’re like the rims on my car bitch, I LEAVE YOU SPINNIN/


so what if i wrote more than i should, you obviously didn’t write enough.