You suck dawg….and that’s Reality
No body likes you like seasonal allergies
Your verses are lukewarm, couldn’t get chocolate ta melt
You could be in a whore house on pool table and still not get ‘felt’ (get it!)
You all up in myass with your tough at high power
Only way you spittin ‘clean’ verses is when you singin in the ‘shower’
thug u ain’t half of what a rapper’s supposed-ta-be
But I’m so fresh and clean you could use my ‘shit’ for ‘potpourri’
You ain’t close-ta-me, better pray your rosary
I’m so far above you, when I’m done writin this my nose-‘ll-bleed*
And I’m all in your ‘mug’, and I and I might just ‘fold-ya’ (Folgers)*
And I’ll freeze ya cause I’m colda than a cola in the polas (polers)
Even if you killed yourself you couldn’t become famous
Dawg, your rhymes fuckin stink, so I’ll re-name ‘em anus
Your punches are more like slaps, and your vocab’s primitive
You couldn’t do my math if you knew the derivative
Ain’t battled in a while but I’m back-back-ta-win
The facts-are-in…..You needs some practicin’
I’ll blow you up in this battle, you can’t even crack-my-skin
Beef wit me is bad for ya health like 3 six-packs-wit-gin
i'lll holla