that was actully pretty decent....

sickhead type verse...
my flow spiting like hoes who dont swallow...
you'll never be in the spot light unless you had cops follow...
B.E.S.T is the oppasit of its names so just cross it...
how ya boss never been on since we battle ya crew an you lost-it...
sickhead aint never been in a mental-home... u spit sentimental-grown...
u'r verse get assemble-wrong... only hit u'll get off me is what inside-the-bong
enuff childs plays....

i get inside you like a infection... then drain energy quickly like nitrous injection...
your no match i have took over your section... you dont even deserve a mention...
no special effects like a car simulation... the real thing i capatilised with in mutation...
so sick i dont need any manipulation... and blow you away like any accusation...
you keep misfiring like a cheap timing belt... im always on fire so my rhymings felt...
like lost no way of you finding help... my hits are perfection like im lining felt...
your an imperfection like rust meant with metal... challenge mayweather and sent-him-mental(sentimental)...
so i left you silenced like an instrumental... dont you know my shits continental...
my shit goes over yor head like bridges... i kncok you the fuck out and destroy ridges...
your here for my amusement like midgets... the shit u type is typed more than digits...
a solution for you to beat me none found... smash insides to create a new compound...
you'll never find me in the wrong crowd... so dont worry my feet are forever on ground...

i got my feet up... my cup of liquer on the side and a blunt being rolled...
in other words i still aint trying yet im making ya b.e.s.t look like ya be lieing..
how ya the b.e.s.t when ya lost u'r frist crew battle??
how ya the b.e.s.t when i personally beat everyone of you pricks...
fall back fam...
this aint a good looks for you word!