Ya from Baltimore, but about ya rhymes...no one's Raven.
Only 14 and with a smooth face, but it ain't close shaven.
Cuz ya ain't seen puberty yet, and won't till ya nuts drop.
Can't drive yet either, so ya know he waits at the bus stop.
The Vital's of ya Keys are standing still, stone cold flatline.
And I just whipped ya ass cuz ya talent's in decline.
He's obviously scared, since May he's only had one battle.
He might have took the win, but competition left him rattled.
So now he's back, the runaway boxer tryin ta grow a set.
But ya heart's not in it, ya just a shadow, a sparring silhouette.
And a fag ta boot, he loves the fact that battles are mostly male.
Cuz check his sig, it's painfully clear he was a virgin till jail.
Now look at him, dropped a callout then ran away once more.
Cuz this kid couldn't hang tough paratrooping in da Marine corp.
So give me my win and go back ta the lame from which ya came.
Cuz Keys, Vitals, whatever! Ya couldn't serve me in a volleyball game.


Well, I wrote this thinking you'd come back and answer. But, seeing as you haven't. I'll post it here and if you do show up, you can cut and paste my verse and post up in Front Lines if you want. Or don't. I just didn't want ta waste this verse. Thanks.