yo lemme merk this herb

I spit dynamic disses that molest the senses, claimin you hard when you rap about fly bitches and benz's/
Sayin ya makin ya own rhymes while your source is making all ur expenses/
My rhymes hit with enough crippling force to crush your wack lyrical structure/
Battlin you is a waste of time, my first line will cause a lung to puncture/
Your speech-is-fake, and as far as "punchline's", you need to keep-'em-straight/
I'll toss u off the peak of ya career, thats the closest you get to taking a leap-of-faith/
Come to mention-ya-punchez, they so weak they leave you ill in the stomach/
Cripped-in-public and left with his legs stitched-to-his-crutchez/
Your left packing-ya-lunches cause you get roughed up and left begging for punches/
Ima be reluctant and at least let you post before leaving you as nuttin but a supplement/
Go sit in the corner...heres a roll of quarters/
Make em' useful and go get dick sucked by something beautiful/
Not something you would do on a regular basis/
Everything you get, i wouldnt wanna see their faces...cause they cheeks wider than Murphy Lee's Laces/