Check IN Your rap got weak at the end....


Ray-B always happy that he always go second/
so he can figure out what i said and how it messin'/
his chance for victory relies on retaliation/
that falls as desperate lies, my rhymes are his fixation/
tryin' be fancy, did you think that hurt/
i-ran-that-story-shit since i went hyper verse-for-verse/
and-for-the-glory-hit i'ma analyze-a-while/
and how you butcher words, bitch, vandalize-ya-style/
picture Ray B sittin' with the thread at page seven/
why this nigga so eager for me to drop him into heaven/
palms sweaty on the keyboard, eyes screen-a-whim/
thread count 2000 plus, bet half was seen-by-him/
not my fault his first-re-sponse didn't mean-a-thing/
lil' verse-de-haunts, it fade like mini-etch-a-sketch key-rings/
his lines were shook-ones, a nice diss he had-none/
since "anyone wanna battle" it's like i had him in block-stun/
and let me predict how his last and final goes/
he'll pick apart my verse and think that's original/
the fact is he couldn't come at me any different/
each scheme is busted chest, pavement, what's the difference/
rookies i'd expect it, but Ray-B, what's with you/
its like ya style ain't graduate, always fails grade two/
and don't tell me more lies like how don't fix it if it's broken/
that complacent shit could have ya emcee card revoken/
penalties while you type, lack-face with hinder-in/
but i know ya have trouble, back-space on ya fingerprints/ 1

Young g.