This cats 'prog-nosis' is bleak, broken like 'immunities' from the 'trash' that he speaks/

Call that rap, another career ya should seek, maybe styling 'lines' for the realm of the 'Weak'/

Four posts and ya ready to boast, ya mouth is moving but ya ryhmes must be 'Ghost'/

Your disconnected and feeling neglected, cuz ya ryhmes are Sick and Whackness infected/

Serve that crap and ya'll just get rejected, stick ~2~ Crack cuz your Dopeless ~&~ misdirected/

Now head back to your room ya sorry baffon, come back w/prewrit'z and the styles ya Consume/ (<-eat bite w/e)

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FUCKA BABYLON BANDIT!!!