Bitch I fight all my battles lyrically pissed.
Think you’d be missed if you ceased to exist?.
Nah did’tn think so, uh-oh, here comes a twist.
Now listen up you little bitch, I’m using your ass to get quick rich.
that should be round the other way, don’t matter to you when your dead in a ditch.
face down, ass up, can’t tell which is which, I fight battles with words, not with fists.
you shit consist’s of lack of syllables, flow wordplay, off like mouldy cheese.
damn, dawg, bow down to your kness, when you see greatness spittin these keys.
I turn the temp up to 100 degrees, lil’ is the return of the black disease.
Uh-oh don’t sneeze, embola’s back, black spots, oh no, there just fleas.
For a minute there I though your were Japanese, that’s what happens –
When spend time with the BBC’s, Brown Boy Clique,
Reek of weak technique, they shit is as antique as ancient greek.
See them, and you first action is to shriek,
Damn, is’nt that you I see in the £1 shop each week?.