aight.....two were aight..a didnt think pound was tryin much but this took it ...

so don't mention the chosen savior
yo, my flow's stranger..the known strangler
stab your brain's nerves with a coat hanger..as you have a stroke, faint and blur
pounds angered and anxious to pick a fight and stick Stick's eyes with a pitchfork's spike
while the sun's fixed-in light gleams off your blood.. p.m.,6 at night
even the police went back to the station like 'Yo, you missed the fight.'
out like kitchen lights.....

that was an ill verse plus things like

Im sittin here waitin for some a T's hits~ta~bob/cuz his beef gets eatin like shish~ki~bobs

just screams that you lost.....

aght battle though but votes goin ta Tpound