This boy is 18 and from "the tomb of the "queen" so I guess he bounces off dicks like he's on a trampoline.
Wants ta be known as "Mr." cuz he's confused with sisters, spendin time on his knees givin tongue twisters.

So I suggest ya chill swallow a pill but if ya still can't be still ya better call Dr. Phil...
If ya cause a spill I'm a move in for the kill, rippin lyrical holes like I was spittin power drills.

Ya type ya text and hope ya next, ta get that deal and end ya hunger...
No chance in hell so throw away ya Dell cuz ya screen sees more shit than a locker room plunger.

Ain't no "has been" you's a "never was" cuz ya skills imaginary like Santa Claus...
So ya diss with precision hardly ever missin but it's harmless foam darts ya ass is spittin.

Like somethin from Ogrish or Rotten dot com my rhymes will have ya lookin like ya swallowed a bomb...
I'm a post a pic so RB can stare at ya limbs everywhere and the brain chunks in ya hair.

Ya wouldn't drop ill rhymes if ya's possessed by Poe, Edgar couldn't help cuz ya brain retains what ya ass don't know...
Forever stuck in idiocy with bad flow for synchronicity it's why all ya wins have been simply charity.

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Merkings will occur Monday thru Friday, 8 am thru 5 pm, C.S.T.
For my convenience, not yours!