so you a sniper, ya-think I give a fuck, I'm an armored sherman tank--> packed wit more fire.//
destroy your rhymes, lines, and crush your dreams & desires with this disease I perspire.//
you admired by no-one, hated by all--> even your moms in denial, not even takin' your calls.//
it's like you reverted back to childhood the way I'm makin' you crawl.//
I bet childhood's tha only hood you've ever know'n, comin' from the suburbs and all.//
I'm stuborne I know, even if you win, I ain't givin' in, I'll keep comin' back like the after taste of eating mexican.//
with incoherent lines, rhymin' like I'm vexxed again.. what is you high? oh-wait.. I am.. oops I messed again.//
my troops like the taliban, fly a plane thru your front window get out and start wrestling.//
how is it to be nestled-in to that cosy 32-1 record, havn't you ever battled anyone good, somebody's gotta be better.//
god musta-blessed ya, or maybe not, it's just dumb luck, fuckin' retard. or should I say "special".//
let me sum him up... I picture a 5 foot 6 twig with wire frame glasses to match.//
a shirt that says "C: DOS/RUN" and this little dweeb's proud of that.//
his mom bought a him a poster of Ja-Rule and Tweet so he thinks he's got talent in rap.//
it's more like I got his talent under wraps.. I didn't know you could have so many dick-rydas when you blunder your tracks.//
I wonder what happens, if I take "QB's" "Quarter Back".. he'd be broke as fuck, in line for an un-employment cheque.//

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