iight iight..........10 - 20

I'll penetrate ya armor so you heard the chink/
You subject of hate far more than Murda Inc./
Fingers tremblin', this bitch just to scurred to think/
This singer's Embelum, Explicit bust a blur of ink/
My spit attack ya eyes, that's visinE's pride/
So I Lift back ya lies, and then i seen cries/
Dis-stress calls for help, ya chest's hardly in health/
The rest is largely yaself, ya punches is far from felt/
2nd guessin' your shit you slatin' recollectin' your spit/
Weapons Dressin you bitch you shakin' like epeleptic kids/
i rep the fifth, from the barrel of a gun to address ya spit/
who you messin' wit? chi-town bitch!, look your best is ripped/
shook cuz your vest is chipped, took cuz i got a Western Hip/
Magnum equipped, rock the bells bitch? I Rang'um quick/
Now i'll bang his chick, think u thourough well my fangs is thick/
Listin' to dat Clangin' shit, the chrome bangin' while i hang this bitch/
5-7? no hate, thas prolly your hieght but wiat, how old are you eight?/
Battlin' me we'll get ya age and losses the same, i'm not one for crossin' a name/
searchin' for the cross in this plain, might as well toss the flame, you lost in this game/
I've cautioned the fame, i'm off'in ya maime, you'll need a seperate coffin for brains/