Ya Raps like a Golf Match for Parapeligics, sumthin i wont Stand Four/
I'll Evict you from ya House Just Leave It!, Call me ya LandLord/
Like other Joker Lyricists this Smoka's A Clown with a funny face/(icp)
Leave you Wit Broker Spirits than A Floater in Town who dun KNO how Money Taste/
You Spit Honey Traced, Tihs Sweet Fags Lips Runnin a Man-a-Thon Race/
Six Utter Lines of Quick Rhymes give you a Sick Mind/
Fix Butter Fines To Encrypt Text Signs & You still wont spit'a Slick Line/
You Lack Finishing Touch, wen you Wak just Envisioning You Tuff/
Ya Raps Diminishing What! Cuz yo Spat just a Blisterin Bluff/
Gat Claps for This Blibbering Chump, his Attack blabbers missing my gut/
Smack Stacks give his liver a lump, an Automatic Stature but for you i'M cHRISTINING THA pUMP/