ight, here it goes . .

ight im gunna wipe you off the map, like bug that was carried away from my windshield wiper//
Young Brown sounds like the nick name you would give for a skid mark, on a shit exploded diaper//
Ure record is 0-4, to me it sounds like if someone told you to lose, you'd do just what ure told//
Now stand still, cuz i can kill and like a golf course, i'll fill you up wit 18 holes//
Theres a free clinic, ure in it.. A fake rappers contest and guess what? ure winnin//
And thats only the begginin, ure no where near finished, ure record wont diminish until the site stops spinnin//
This thread wont hold all the stories in rymez i could have told//
What kind of life do you have, 0-4, ure name is YOUNG brown and ure 19 years old//
I'm like optical illusions, i'll give you problems that have no logical solutions//
And only cuz ure stupid, you'll think that you've found the information for a conclusion//
People tell me ure a herb, so my lungs are tellin me i should smoke you//
Like a valuable glass sculpture, it didn't take a second-thought for me to get the chance, so I broke you//
You see.. people pay me to spit//
People pay you to stop//
'When fake rappers go bad' you'll be on the next episode of cops//
You can call me the protagonist, or antagonist, either way you wouldn't fit in the script//
You would never reach the climax battle wit me, you were only a begginin conflict that my conscience told me not to bother wit this nonsense, i could pick you off wit one chopstick over this quick spit penmenship.....end

ight man ure turn...go for it .. . .. -one