A t.v. couldnt even show me tha right pikcha, if i was diga, ahole for ya nigga/
Would ya fit huh, in tha casket, my rhymes is fuckin drastic/
When i blast shit, i burn ya to ashes, leave enough to put in a basket, ya damn basturd/
Yall never hurda, nigga like suspicous, ima spit shit to end this, Flo-master next on my hitlist/
There aint gonna be no witness, ima have ya constipated, thats gonna leave ya shitless/
Get out tha booth, before I knock you tooth-less, your flows is useless/
Its that wicked, wicked nigga from tha Midwest, ill be at ya chest, aiming to put your ass to rest/
Aint nuttin less, it’ll be tha eye of tha demon that keeps me seein, you bitch made niggas so figa this out, as I put this gat off in ya mouf/
Shot em up, bang bang, splatter ya brains, shoulda came wit harder game, I bet you I win this main/
Im killa, gorllia, im feel ya, full of led bullets, you afraid pull it, I’m grippin tha mic tight, when I fight, I might bite, like mike, ima end this shit aight.