This kid's already wavin' the white flag and givin up, he must be from france //
Take out my glock and spill ya brains all over ya jeans, make u a Smartie Pants //
Ur rhymes aint nice, like American Pie, U only "please"-ya-socks //
U couldn't deliver hot lyrics if u wrote them on a piz-za-box //
Ice couldn't spit homicidal words if he actually said-"murder" //
Cuz ur lyrics always blow like "TNT" u must be related to Ted-Turner //
Who's writin' for u? Cuz I can definetly tell ur lyrics are "ghost"-haunted //
This kid rhymes like the dude from that movie Malibu's most wanted //
At first u just wanted to get ur toes wet, but now ur in too-deep //
U need 2 walk away son, there's a reason why God gave u two-feet //
Ur rhymes are average, but like Ja Rule they're way "short"-of-perfection //
The only way u ever "come ill" is wit an erection and some sort-of-penis infection //
Ice thinks it's gonna be a "runaway" victory cuz on his shirt his mom knitted-"gone" //
That's pretty funny, cuz birds fly upside down over ya head cuz u aint even worth shittin-on