mic check 1,2

eyo, eyo

I bring grade A-beef, leave wounds that stay-deep for 8-weeks//
In this battle, call me "baldy", cause there's no way that you can "fade-me"//
my mind is flexing-a-diction-scary, confessing-ta-whippin'-faries//
and this herb's-gay, definition's of "word play" is molesting-a-dictionary//
my skills-harness ill-darkness//
guaranteed to beat anyone who messes with more "male privates" than a drill-sergeant//
your still-garbage no matter how many your win digits-on-this-website//
I'll make your rap choice career come to a "short-stop", like "midget's-at-a-red-light"//
when lifted-I-shred-mics and my intellect won't let me play-fair//
you have "no chance" at this, like R. Kelly opening up a "day-care"//
cmon son, your "shitt will never hit" like a toilet that's bottomless//
I'm a rotten-kid, throwing punches so hard they're shattering bones if you try blocking-it//
battling me is like a "dull knife" or the Nets without Jason Kidd, "pointless"//
I'll take your "weed", rip out your "elbows and your knees", and leave you "jointless"//
boning me is your sister's-goal, so I'll give-her-pole until her rooms fixture's-fold//
your bicker's-old, raps pumps out more "negatives" than a "picture-roll"//
where's your focus-kid??//
I'll "cast" ya punches away like you threw em with a "broken-fist"//
you remind me of my lil sista, cause ya'll both piss and spit-alike//
Your pathetic, I could give you a "Jordan poster" and you still couldn't "rip-a-mic"//
acceptin ma battle call was a major life-error//
cause even if you "pitched" for the Taliban, you still couldn't "strike-terror"//
1-one-1
uve been served!