This faggots played your done with, your printed out and old news/
You think I was General Mills the way I’ll roll up this fuckin fruit /
This kid isn’t gangsta he learned at a school with full course /
The bitch wanted to show me his magazines so he pulled out The Source/
I’ll snap Rektions phone line and watch his life and career break/
Kid jumped to the opportunity to be famous, ended up breaking a leg/
Ur flow wouldn’t be smooth If I cloned ya verse and clicked hip hop, to beat u twice/
You’d still be pm'n me like “c’mon reality, how bout that line, was it nice?”/
Stop acting up, your wack-as-fuck, plus your getting served on more than a racket-club/
I’ll have you backin-up, cuz moving out of a boxing ring wouldnt make your bars pack-a-punch/
My fists will glide ya cheeks, using sign language with both hands you wouldn’t be left with the right to speak/
I despise this geek, hes stupid, you turned on the air Conditioning when ur man told you to Hide the Heat/
U ready to Start this cause the dynamIcs take apart hitZ/..
My PaintGun PistolZ shoot Piccaso BulletZ to lay out Lyrical ArtistZ/
My clean spitZ expose ur youngest with teen spitZ/
Puttin right arm shotZ to you with ya cHest stiff like the Pledge of AllegianceZ/ (get it)
Face the facts, your done, don’t pretend-to-rap, you bette Believe ill kill this Cat/…
I aced this rap, fuck ya scripts everybody hates ur shit, Rektion couldn’t get love in a Tennis Match/
In a room full of bitches this faggot still couldn't be the man/
When u finally post ur lines are guna be useless, like going out at night n tryen to get a fuckin sun tan/!…