AYo who you think you are son?//
Callin' yourself the murderousone//
When your whole crew together can't affored a gun//
You to young to be hear dawg come back when you can cum//
I'm a true killer kid and when i come for you~you better run or dash~For the nearest Class//
Cause if i see ya, i'm leavin' blood stains on the playground grass//
Ima cock back and blast, with my lyrical gat, have you runnin like a cat from the loudest rata-ta-ta//
Cause your Wack ass Rap ain't cuttin the Slack//
Like an employee jacked up on crack~tryin to make a big mac//
Thats how simple your shit is yet you still can't hack~it dawg your rhymes are crap//
And thats why you and your mama are livin' in a shack//
Oh and by the way~tell that bitch i want my quarter back//
Cause like i said about your rhymes and your flow//
Your mom needs lessons on how to BLOW//