Carson Jet you battling me is certain suicide/
Like an Iraqi on a plane with bombs implanted in your thighs/
I'll watch you as you die, face form a look of surprise/
Expression frozen in time, just as death has designed/
I revel every second of this battle, a warriors way/
While you on the other hand has always dreaded this day/
Come with your funny punches, quick wit, and meaningless banter/
I'll hit you straight and sharp, with ancient art, a Lyrical Master/
Pick your rhymes apart, line for line, even in a blind spit/
You can Hear Jimmy, but can't FEEL the music that it's timed with/ (White Men CAn't Jump)
You can hear the bullets coming, FEEL the music when your flesh rip/
You can hear the keys clicking, FEEL The power of my text spits?/