you might as well turn back the time, my style's proper-u'r still trying to figure how to put words back in line...
another herb smacked in rhyme, u go for those bald woman-considering' u kill for ill...(kemo's)
my decision is to still, keep sizzing u'r grill-as u'r wimpering at will' thirty three and u still need directions-on fingering a girl...
that's about as pathetic, u culdn't be ahead-if i cut u down from the neck-kid...
born can't bless-shit, if he was the holy ghost on the john-bro u've been bombed' situation gets hairy-but not as much as what grows on u'r arm...
Your just gettin a taste, like samples of cookies-how can u be born to kill' u can't even manhandle a rookie...
i'm a vandal so shoot me, let's keep it flowin-u'r dreams are broken-raps get caught up' even u'r seed is choking...
i don't have to try hard, i'll just spit basic-or complex-as i rock text' how my conscious is craving...
Stop it don't hate it, but still u can't do either-so figure it out-after i kicked in her snout' u'r moms i planned to beat-her...
born the massive-eater, eats cock and laughs-block this path-u'll just drop drop' like buddens tryin to hold a glock in a cast...

that's ten
one