i'ma murder this wack herb with adverse verbs dispersed towards his head first//
The lead bursts to puncture yer cranium structure…no ones ever bled worse//
Get a special-ed nurse to deal with this retard…attacks will leave his knee scarred//
With no regards I persist to split guards only having to flow with three bars//
I progress with each yard…closer to winning as each card is dealing the damage//
Spitting with a 'diss'-advantage I show Blue how real skill is managed//
Gadgets used by the inspector wrecking your sector when spitting with ravages//
Tactics attribute my skill like adjectives, verbally hitting n splitting this savage B!TCH//
I’ve mastered this when attacking vinces rounds with fully loaded clips//
This ill status bully throwing fits n hurting fags with fully quoted scripts//
Im heaven sent with the weapon of choice being my intelligence//
Its evident…when compared to mine your hardcore style is irrelevant//
For the hell of it, I’ll dismantle your mantle when I start attacking it//
In fact you get hit when I spit immaculate flows…ya shots are inaccurate//
Im dropping heavy weights like anorexic kids lifting hundred pound plates//
Taking lives like the dirty thirties when stock markets plunder rates//
I sunder greats, when Im microphone blessing stop stressing n learn ya lesson//
Ill test em, blue's skills lessen when Pound blasts shots from a Smith n Wesson//
Cold hearted, attacks will leave yer bones parted…you dont deserve an ill status//
You can’t balance out the challenge…glass piece slices your breathing apparatus//
Blue was happy when I turned ILLMATIC, now he is cryin like a hoe cause Ima whoop his a$$, cause Im STILL-AT-IT//
From the beggining I knew this win was FULLY-AUTO-MATIC//

all u do is dream in sacs, whether its the bed or testicals..u still cant clean my ass//
defeat this fag, it wont be a victory but more of a turn on for this weakling trash//
holding K.O.S is like stinking crap, cuz it doesnt leave u til u leave in bags//
bleed in rags, only time you about to drop spots PERIOD!//
30 bars are u serious, more funny than watching Eddie Murphy's Delirious//
u cry like weary kids, who bleeds out the nostrils and scared as fuck to take out they tonsils//
you get turned off and on like nossles, and u think that makes u a person with a hot flow//
my rhymes u bought those, have votes for me going up more than gas prices..//







U dont gotta match tha length jus between 10-30 lines