The only way youd be dope is if I split ya wig and called you a crack head,
and I heard you bite in ya sleep to win battles like bugs in ya bed.
(dont let the bedbugs bite)

As im beating you im lighting a fire to make ya blood boil beneath,
and even after you've chewed up the facts i'll leave you spitting teeth. (angry=blood boil-spitting teeth)

As you feel my hits you suddenly realise that ya wack, (hits-wack)
and as you slip on my spits you cant grip that ya slack. (slip-spits-grip-slack)

Even if you got up real early in the morning to write a good verse it wouldnt dawn on you,
and if I fed you less than 2 lines you still wuda bitten off more than you can chew.

Talking of feading you im forcing sour grapes into ya then im out,
So after I win leavin you bleedin I'll leave a bitter taste in ya mouf.

I'll send you on holiday so you can relax after ya lame spit,
but you wont be able to handle ya remorce and you'll cut short ya guilt trip.

There u go son.........