I'm Divine-with-Scorn in Rhyming Wars, Snap your Wrists so your timing's poor/
Twist your Spinal-Cord when I'll Punch your Teeth through your throat so your Mind is Torn/
This is not a Passive Contest but I'll Make you Grasp-the-Concept/
Smashing your Face through the Monitor to Create a Graphic Onset/
Then Pounce you Koston when I Cut your Joints in Two/
and Stick my Fingers through your Eyes to Give u my Point of View/
I'll Sink your Battleship so you can Scream and Shout Until your Voice Runs Out
and Place your Brain Outside your Skull so you can Think this Out/
As I Split Parts With War Axes and Rip Hearts From Thoraxes/
This Bastard only Packs Raw Punches when I Leave his Fists Parked in HydroChloric Acid/