my lucidity has clearness & style...while yer idiom stays n lost files
enterprising all expeditious typhoid fevers...infect yer sin for miles
yer verse was like the consistancy of a peperoni...& yer still not topping pizza
i'll mop the floor with ya face crooked grinded...call it the leaning tower of peazza
what the fuck is up with yer signature...it's more disfuncktional then yer flow
u say yer noabuse...kill ya boyfriend n ya sig. knock out yer fuse then u wont glow
ur not from underworld? cuz i saw u fucking a loose goose
must be from gay underwear...pink like ya ass torn from a moose
dont ever put up a warning cuz no 1's afraid...try 2 fit in & u wont be made
you fucking a girl is like u climaxing n ya face...even a gimp could get laid
u will not get paid, neither spit the game...all ya best shit retires so lame
think ya got homies at R.B., as soon as everyone finds out u a 8 year old girl...u betrayed
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