ight here it goes. . .

You pronounced in bitch slapped that i would get clapped for my first loss//
You elapsed one set of battle raps, confidence overpowers ure tracks, and these were deadly lines you just crossed//
You call this a good battle, i say its ure recital//
For fact, ure rymez are whack, you spit against me like you was one of tha rejects from American Idol//
Were those 10 lines, or 10 sentences?//
Your writing style aint worth a literature proffessors while, cuz percentages are sayin that those bars shouldn't even be placed in parenthesis//
Seven and zero, still stay on my guard. . by 15 wins will do for me wut one did//
Maybe its my work, or maybe its cuz ure a conceeded bloody bastard from london//
Tha only reason u dissin QB is cuz you couldnt make the cut in the forum//
Not only were you whack, but ure shit was puttin me in an early grave, due to boredom//
Im gunna DICE you up in 2 Timez the amount of vicktims who have fallen//
The enraged pitbull inside me wasn't interested in you for mallin, cuz tha load was too light worth my weight so it looks like U-HAULIN//
Hit your British ass wit an American flag while chantin bits and pieces of the Star Spangled Banner//
Doctors checkin ure vital signs, and you've just hit flatline on tha medical scanner . . .end