A true fact, infact son, you mainly lack attraction//

You look insanely wack when just a fraction of my tracks run//

My rhyming skills got you climbing hills//

I travel through your mind into your spine like siren drills//

Im sliming grills of roaches, with spray that disinfects//

And twisting necks of saints til their spinal column disconnects//

im the devil,u better start prayin,not even god can save u from
this slayin//

Left you flat like a soft drink,Got more styles than Diana Ross swing//

Zone like Rick James when he smoke crack,You and Charli
Baltimore,Got something in common//

Yall both whack//

cov kid the king P-I-N,If I aint the best this year,The motherfucker be my twin//