I will start like the ladies in the breast cancer marathon,
Time to bust a sweat on your ass, like in a triatholon.
Your like an iron you steam away your ideas through stress,
Not again, You let the big girl balloon tittys get to ya head.
But dont worry I aint dead, but ill be there to make sure you locked.
Your like your mother, dontstop my name tatooed on the cock.
Pictures of me hung to drop, im the one who spoiled your crop,
You make as much sense as a victoria secret magazine cover,
But I dont see nuthing but a thong you and your little brother.
I dont even have a gun yet i still pistol wip your ass,
You can smell the fear when i walk in the room with a beer to pass,
Take a sip and lie on the ground like wood taking your last gasp,
You are shit to me, im done with this faggot, My turn is passed.

__________________

Ill Emcee