Hold no grudge, not even a judge can bring a verdict/
Because the way you lose a match jus comes together perfect/

No contest with slow context in motion, i spit grammar a
skool teacher couldn't correct/
It's like lyrically "cuffin-your-ventricles" cuz I'm puttin
you in "cardiac-arrest"/

At your rate you battlin me is like you "surpassin'-dracula",
it's simply a "miss-stake"/
Like gas prices over America, my rhymes ain't bout to
de-flate/

Burstin wit words, fuck meters, with my verse I create a
diversion/
The only way you rhyme clean is if you spit those
"unwanted-lines" through detergent/

Surgeon General's warning says it's OK to "smoke" ya
competition/
Choppin game up so much it's like makin' "incisions" in my
opposition/

My rhymes are far too astute and shrewd for your mind to be
able to compute/
Dissolve ya bars through amonia and hydro-chloric chemical
solute/

This nigga battled restricted and he lost 5 to 1/
I bet u sucked some niggas dick for that nigga to say u won/