I'LL SPIT AGAIN WITH AN ADDED 10 LINES SEEING AS YOU SPIT 20 AND THE LIMIT WAS 10

I come armed-with-berrettas to harm-the-trendsetters///
I slap down your lyrics put my palm-to-your-letters///
Ya pits-stink, ya-spits-stink, its instinct ya mad-at-me///
You write like the Bee Gees and your flows a fuckin ‘Tradegy’///
I spit quick sporadically; MK fatality///
To want to battle COM ain’t dumb its insanity///
The only grip you got on this battle is on ya shell-toes///
That post is more of a waste (waist) then where my fucking belt-goes///
I can’t write with pens I’m so hot the fucking felt-glows///
I’ll melt-those shell-toes turn them into sneaks with velcro///
My spits so thick its get stuck-in-tissue///
This punch line could miss and still fucking-hit-you///
I corrode-you-with-chemicals coz your ode-was-so-terrible///
I wipe the smile of your crew; leave you solo-hysterical///
You mean-to-cuss-me? need speed-to-rush-me///
You won’t like me when I’m mad; I turn green-and-muscley///
I’ll slaughter ya-order and kidnap ya-daughter///
You could have her back for one night but you still can’t afford-her///