My dialect dictates in the wickest ways
spittin' a cross section along your rib cage
and with rage, I deteriorate your lung capacity, rapidly
then reincarnate myself through this malicious rhapsody
nothin' but vicious rap strategies.......
and GrayFox is the prime target, for a marksman
who spit rhymes as harsh as french armpits
I'm armed with..........
a 12 gauge, loaded with the most vulgar essays
escalatin' through this escapade, you escaped
changed your name, and decided to relocate (scared bitch)
like an earth quake, the levels of my decibals
surround you in the sound booth, hound you
until the glass shatters around you, then they found you
couldn't describe what I just did to your PUNK ASS
my guns blast, while you wanna run and hide
but these slugs will find you, put two inside you
leavin' a hole in your back, large enough for Big Pun to dive through, if I ain't behind you, then I'm right beside you, SO CLOSE, we be walkin like the Siamese do
don't make me remind you..........
when SynikiLL get pissed crews get beat heads get split,
After this battle the loss will rip ya spine each you spit,,,,
.............you knew that was comin'.............