I sense a lotta repressed rage from when you was a shory/
Ya should be depressed still rappin on the net when you forty/
The only club you been in was high school-Glee/
But somehow you still used a fuckin fake ID/
So now I'm questionin whats wrong with this cat/
KB Please leave those wack replys blank like firin unloaded ghats/
Your punches aint hittin shit, I kill herbs like you So I weed the wack/
I can diss myself harder than your two freestyles an whole vurse/
"T- lives in a shack wit a fuckin I-mac," meanwhile whats worse?/
KB stores toys, is also outta work/
an only drinks at bars where men dont wear shirts/
I can tell by ya rhyme suicide has crossed ya mind befor/
Help is here (quer) stick ya head in tha door, kiss tha floor/
Listen just once more- You aint one of raps renegades/
You been afraid of money since ya got jacked sellin lemonade/
Aint done shit in ya life. So long, Death is here today/
My foot starts kickin tha door in an blood starts drippin/
Two more an K is on tha floor now its just pourin/
I almost took out tha rhyme book but stood in dismay/
Cause Ya do nothin but spit shit on tha mic anyway/
So I'll shove it in your ass, with my foot, one last smile befor you drift away/
A sutible funiral for a fuckin wack emcee whos gay/

10 minute keystyle bitches