I hear you got a thick dick no call-for-surprise
You never get too see it coz of balls-in-your-eyes
You act like a bitch; this ain’t a row-you-can’t-leave
You only get to spit coz I allow-you-to-breath
I attack on the western-flank to test-ya-rank
Cut off your facial features… leave ya whole expression-blank
I find-that your rhymes-lack any work or diction
Cross my palm with silver coz merk is the prediction
I’m ‘fisting’ the ‘hole’ in your rhymes with delight
You’ll have to start and bite coz you ain’t that ‘tight’
I’ll drop-till-ya-scorned I won’t stop-till-you’re-mourned
I’m like mace; I’m in your face more than pop-ups-on-porn
I’m roasting your rhymes; gonna blast them to ashes
Give cash for your urn and laugh when it smashes
I throw bars at your glasses and leave you with gashes
Count up the lines your just got fifteen lashes