Your Emcee Abilities is ya sore point kid,
Your ass hurts from constapation cuz you cant spit... shit.
I'll shut you up like a car crash pile up,
Cuz you rhyme like twisted metal... bent as fuck.
I know I got ya with those two lines,
Cuz you so caught with mine you forgot your rhymes.
Get with the times kid go buy your self a clock,
You must be stuck in the past with the styles you drop.
I'll document ya skill in a two page book,
First page im acting ill and in the second you got shook.

Your skill is breakin down like incompatable chemical compounds,
Cuz your brain repells ya mouf like a magnetic field surounds.
You a pussy which has swelled up from too many beatings,
Cuz my liyrics fuck you hard like cheerleaders at swat meetings.
I hope you not gonna take it to bad when I kill you with ease,
Cuz I hate to hurt a guy thats already got no Emcee Abilities.
I dont have to smack ya cuz you smack ya self regularly,
You fight so hard to be good your beating ya self steadily.
I would cleverly analyse with my mind your shodily structured styles,
You stick out like im wearing binoculars "a fake" right in front of my eyes.

There you go son uppin this for votes...........