Aight, I'm gonna lyrically murder you, You won't remain alive/
Wanna beat me, pick a number from one to five//(his record 1-5)
Regardless what you pick, I predict you'll still lose/
And Predictions are 200% accurate, 100 when I'm drinking booze//
You'll get amuse, reading my rhymes and I don't mean erect/
Put my gun to your green (inexperienced) neck, and give a clean disect//
Give me a sec, I refuse to lose against a Vi-et/
Urinating on a dog, is the only way you could get a bitch wet//
Is he dead yet? I believe he is, why does anyone care?/
NO!! And in rhymin' will he ever compare?//
NO!! I guess that means I'm going to add you to my list of kills/
Cause I'm like a Fan-AC in winter the way I gave you chills//

*MC-Viet added to list of kills*