that's bout ten aight...

jay jordan, ya nuthin but str8 borin-with ya fake raps often-ya wack as ya paragraph-and i hate that format...
ya get stepped on like a doormat, constantly-houston we have a problem-theirs been anotha-texas tragedy...
the heck with u, shulda never answered-thinkin u'r the master-but wuln't be sick-if u contracted seven cancers...
this is u'r first battle, and the start is weak-so i'll pardon this geek-who's not goin anywhere-like a ran em over-in a car on the street...
jay or jordan, which one is it-bitch i dun't give shit i'll put kidd up ya ass-and let mike rip it...
i dun't fight midgets, so i betta end here-cuz it looks like u wun't last-even in a dead stare...
u winnin i bet it's rare, u newbie slut-groupie plus-u got smoked like a jay-after a groovy lunch...

oneee