(You tryin' to talk about me an' shit lil' ass nigga... I taught you the rap game. Remember when you were a newbie, and you rode my dick? Askin' me to help you out to get better an' shit. Now you tryin' ta go against your maker. I made you what you are son, recognize!)

First things first faggot, who you know flows like me?//
Ya skills are like an "oversized watch" on a "blind person", you’ve been here forever, it’s still "long time" no "see"//
With no jewels or sneakers my tune's could beat ya//
’Cuz you couldn’t “stick to audio”, even if you was “glued to speakers”//
I'm makin’ this chump pay for fakin’ what thugs say, y’all can call him “Jared”, because after he’ll be losin’ “weight in the subway”//
You’re known to change stories and get shitted on like a children’s diaper//
This time I ain’t just flowin’, i’m spittin’ out an ill cypher//
Your dreams got you gassed, you’re far from a contender//
Didn’t do ya homework? You still think "Sir Mix-A-Lot" is a fucking "bartender"//
The funny part is you know I’m sick dogg, hearing me you got the chills, get off ya own dick, you wouldn’t be a "B.I.G. shot" if you were there when "Notorious” got killed//
Ya light weight status won’t hold, you’ll get flipped like a feather//
Battle me I’m winning, you’re leaving with “4 casts” and you ain’t even gotta “predict the weather”//

(This dude's a joke... I ain't even rip his ass... HOLLA!)