I’ll take it easy on clipse, this dudes misunderstood/
I got him scared like trick-or-treaters in R. Kelly’s hood/
C’mon elipse, just admit you fuckin’ suck/
You’re like fertilizer gambling’ . . . . . shit outta luck/
Wanna balance lines like me? GET A MEASURIN’ CUP! /
Cause I got more illegals like than the Mets lineup/
Call me Texas W. I’ll fry this bitch in lockup/
Solar elipse, keep your hand at your hip/
Cause if you tryin’ to bring me down you better empty your clip/
I promise once you’ve met my glock you’ll be chillun’ wit Pac/
Bitch, you couldn’t grab time if you were hands on a clock/
You spit retard rhymes like Helen Keller wit writers block/
I’ll put you in a coma by the end of the day/
And whitewash you consciousness like the KKK/
Leave you soundin’ like usual suspects . . . . . “His name was Kaiser Sosay!”/
You aint gonna succeed even tho your shits rehearsed/
All emcees agree you’re just the best of the worst/
You’re like an icicle . . . . You peak at the bottom/
You just a monumental screw-up like a leak in a condom/
This dudes a kung-fu grip from the dicks he’s been grabbing/
His skills earned him the name: Crouching-Tiger Hidden-Faggot /