I'm just gonna stand back~and laugh,when ur damn craft~get devoured in sand~traps//
Iceburgs's style is quite non existant,on~impact,like armless kids givin him hand~claps//
I stress in this~sentence the non importance of your~incentive,It doesnt matter//
Come round my way and hear the buck~shot~scatter to leave yo brains~splattered//
You wouldn't be off~da~hook if you hung yo self with a telephone cord and jumped~backwards//
Crushin yo style like a trash~compactor,I measured yo game precisely with a pro~tractor//
My aim~is~set, projected toward this rejected~pathetic~degenerate just to gain~respect//
And I'm willing~to~bet,that you ready~to~get,defeated with my relentless~intellect//
This style I'm bringin is so~polished I peed~wax, Game more poisonous than~Anthrax//
Yo verses can't compete,they~abolished,Hope you don't expect to bring in the cash~stacks//
Just give~it~up before you get ripped~and~cut, I spit~to~snuff, so quickly~run, before I slit~ya~gut//
Maybe when I knocked you out, you slipped~and~fucked ya head up so bad you think your spÃ-ts~is~tough//
like passing colds~I'll spread sickness~to collapse the globe~my army of rabid souls~with heightened senses//
Fake apprenctices~get slaughtered period with no~sentences and erased from~existence//
Didn't know I had jokes~I'll grab throats~until this cat straight chokes//
And leave Your unskilled crafts broke off~key like vocals hitting shitty bad~notes//

16 BARS I DIDNT GO OVER