Yo your rhymes are nuthin, when mine are ill contestants//
while your rhymes are wack, mine make me dollars and sense//
yo, ima put you out of your agony when i inflict agony behind the knee//
bullets cuttin through your breakin the knee cap, that should teach you not to spit at me//
you wack with no clue, you sufferin an agonizing defeat, make you weak//
stumble and fall to your feat, you shakin at the knees, this fake gee, therapy is wat you gonna seek//
get claped and left for dead, get your girl and your mom into bed//
you takin it orally, and it aint no medicine//
when i spit at you ima drop you and this verse//
you better not bite cus my flows gotta germ, youll get sick die in a week get locked in a herse//
mutha fukers gotta rehearse to come back to this verse probably spit some wack pre-writ shit//
im tryin to beat you in the polls but your verse does it for me, going against me like like rowing with one oar//
because the glocks cocked means im ready for war//
i block your flimsy punches with a hand behind my back//
but its holdin a gat, to put you out of the agony, the sound around mesound like a screaming baby//