aight



eyo, your explosions of peroxidizable chemicals is weak//1
grasp the air, witchcraft and priest, me-wreck-all(miricle) of speech//2
your sorcery equal to morphine, i just dont feel a thing//3
feels like you going through me, like the reloaded twins//4
call me your highness, you head are like clouds bitch//5
cus when you think you going up, im pulling you downwards//6
your rhymes stench out flowers, curdle custards and make onions cry//7
im from the brits bitch, you just another american pie//8
on a level-as-high as your name describes, but persona-wise, it lies//9
lock ya jaws, iv done-chins (dungeons) that scare grown-men into there worst nightmare//10
oh heavenly dreams, i was 'smokin-dro' there//11
ill have you chewin bibles just so you can rip a-men//12
pray once agian, cus you aint gonna get another chance//13
and how dumb are you for cristicing my rhymes//14
when i was to spit second, and your first to write//15
your the worse on mics, and i aint even heard what you sound like//16
and for your information, im asian, that means i rise but you just level on down CUZ//17 (indian origin, not chinese)
you need to figure that not every mc's a nigga, you just a dumbass with a two loss record//18
and to defeat, its just two lines on this guy//19
cus when he said prepare for the storm, skittles fell from the sky//20