your rhymes come up short so you extend em like dot...dot, that's not-hot, I bleed you like pimples that got-popped/
just like your Dick, when you rhyme you never Come Hard, the only gun you leave smokin's the one in your Avatar/
don't test-again, you can't text-a-win like Keyboards with no "W", like Governor Gray Davis, Cali is not Lovin-You/
Death is what you See-In-My-Words, judgement after being-observed: the only thing that M.O.B.'s pro at is Being-a-Herb/
I'ma give you the Middle Finger, Evil Eye & the Cold Shoulder, Leave you with no Skully, like X-Files with only Moulder/
Just cuz you Fell-on-Knees to give me head don't mean you commmitin Fel-o-nys, how do you spell faggot? simply M-O-B/
I rip out your Spine, put it to your Throat and Fold-it-Around, see this Dirt on my Hands? You know I'm Holdin-My-Ground/
I don't Bite shit, I Eat MC's and love the Crunch, only reason you a Starvin Artist is cuz I Ate-Your-Lunch/
You ain't feelin me? no way you killin-me, yeah you a Vet but the kind that earns income on Disability/
This Rematch was the biggest Mistake you Ever-Made "did you say Steak?" nah bitch I said Beef that you Couldn't-Fade/


out good luck playa