aight check it....

this dude thinkz he's hot, thinkz his punches is sumthin,but yo i think he's bluffin, dudes holdin nuthin//1

like a hoe witout a dick his careers in a slump and, stomp his brain out his ears like i wuzz "polka" jumpin//2

electrocute when i slide, so when i "waltz" by, this bitch backin up like it wuzz "2 step" time//3

i cant beleive the frontin, this guys an assasin? attack his mind and eyes, destroy wutz left of hiz brain he's been stashin//4

ya hard drives crashin, low in giga-bites, they only way u winnin is if u rigged-da-site//5

but if u sling sum shite, then my shit equally match, or over-run ya shit like "simpson" did to "mash",when he checks his box stash, this dude gets jacked, but im talkin bout ya brain, ya intellect'z been attack//6

cuz even if u masterd in alchemy u still couldnt be magic, lyrically u bout to be in a accident datz tragic//7

yo u wonder "merkingz..why tastin", cuz i rock citations, u at low optimization//8

he wantz lyrical probation, but hes wack so i object,tell him hiz dick can get erect befor he getz upset//9

ya lyrical shlong gon' be faced wit impotence,cuz u couldnt be hot lined wit insolence,says he can rip da kidz, cuz he spitz da biz,but i think his style's fallin he's marked in dis insident//10