hot sauce, ya name shuld be cold bread-ya flows dead-take off the caps-those molded togetha raps-get slept on like gold beds..
ya blow at text, and it really shows though-my flows blow-through the darkside-i just take it as a light joke...
i dun't fight hoes, and still keep it gully-the reason-i'll still leave ya bleedin-the color of ya celly...(red)
ya nuthin but in my belly, cuz i just ate u raw-so welcome to rap battles-sorry fo the indecent tour...
i got my 44, ready to bust loud-cuz i dun't trust how-next time e-mail me ya verse-so i can proceed to flush down...
the toilet cuz its spoiled, my brains bouta to boil-i think i need sum alcohol-ya culdn't go round if i dround ya in coil...
how's that to foil, ya wack ass plans-ya dun't kno me son-cuz if u did-ya kno why and1 needsa back up ya ass...
befo i smack up ya ass, like handball does-can all the fuss-hotsauce is like a broken air conditioner-a fan all crushed...
a massive bullshit spitta, who pulls shit frequent-i got the fullclip heated-ready to ball ya dome-and keep that good lick feelin...
ya wish ya was dealin, then ya culd deliver-this hood's been dismembered-ya aint even got a winnin record yet-and dun't be lookin fo betta....

1111