Your rhymes are artificial and forced, mine are naturel and sourced
from the dark deep resource of my mental repository, you cook yours up in a cosmetics laboratory.
I don’t need no lab rats, to couteract your crass act
so cut outcha weak attacks, befo ya get thrown off tha beat n track
Aimless and directionless, you ever been in such a mess?
Here take a cleanex and wipe that shit you can’t get off your chest
Respect is reserved for times when you don’t run outta weak rhymes
from your book of one-liners, you act like you deserve respect for bein an Old Timer
And I know ur a counterfeit with ya ‘nocive guide to ghetto speak’
Like ur feet never touchet the streat, it’s time to expose ur conceit