Ey yo, your whole style is painful, like charlies angels, I go "full throttle"/
beat me? SHIT ya got a betta chance of winn'n the lotto/
Audo couldn't "make out" a win if he was play'n spin da bottle/
I'm da rap aficio-nado, leave this wack cats ass dead on the spot so, fast youd think im Terrel O./(Terrel Owens)
Of da San Francisco Forty-niners, ya just like R. Kelly ya spent all ya time in da "minors"/
Well dis is da big leagues, I'm spitt'n verbal blitzkreigs, ya key ta keep'n above .500 is "unsolved" like mysteries/
Erase ya history, No sympathy, interrupt ya eulogy to tell ya family I disagree/
Like a paraplegic walk'n and humm'n, you "never seen it" when I was com'n/
Cuz this "lil boy" got his ass "beat on" like I was "drumm'n"/
"Dumb and dumber" is what ya flo and style is, no escape, I've got ya ass "surrounded" like islands/
But even though im "string'n ya ass up" like violins, ya still aint "classical"/
You tha 10th degree of illness, well it must be celsius cuz you aint sure as hell aint "cold"/ (celcius is warmer than normal degrees)