[B]This aint no battle... its murda... u cant compete
i aint racist but... how u gonna race wit no feet?//
No mean feat... blisterin cold when i 'freeze u wit heat'
mic drops from ur palm... the only time u drop a beat.//
This a 'Omen' of things not yet seen... spittin visionary dreams
u asked to war a newbie but God stepped on the scene//
I'll level ur score... snap that jaw an levelled to the floor
leave u bruised an sore... pussy... ur like a battered whore//
Im known to appeal to the inner-self... craved like beggars wealth
too ill... i aint good for ur health... i'll leave u on the top shelf//[B]

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