Ya styles lame, an your reign is worthless/
You could'nt be HARD-TO-THE-CORE, if you were the EARTHS SURFACE/
In no position to oppose Funn, I think you Rap wack on purpose/
I have more faith in stick up kids, living in trenches an run down churches/
Battle, I murda dis/ No! you can't hurt dis/
A friggin joke... a goddam clown short of a circus/
So I read ya rhymes... you ain't got guns, bitch please/
The only CAPS you got are attached to ya knees/
I got a lyrical disease, which makes me green, like chylorophyll on leaves/ I'm ahead of my time, like I was a tree before a seed/
Man, you PUSSY, PERIOD... what can you do KWIK/
I'd inject you verses wit used needles, an your rhymes still would'nt be sick/
an I mean it/ I'm FLY like superman, an witches on broomsticks/
You can't BEAT anything or anyone... why you doing music/
Then, you talk bout gals... ATL Rappers are all the same/
But, Kwik.. can't play gals.. HE gets PLAYED like video games/

To Be continued...