Your days are numbered, and I feel this battle isn't fair sport/ (1)

My lines leave you unable to "Carry-on" like Al Queda luggage at airports/ (2)

Block ya "gills" so you drown under my flow, ya life undid/ (3)

Can't give ya last rights, I'm no priest. I don't "Feel this kid"/ (4)

Leave you with ya first loss, bet you didn't guess it would be today/ (5)

But oppurtunity knocked at ya door saw your face and walked away/ (6)