Nigga, You Ready To Get Rocked By Ballistic. Uhh, Yo...Come On

You Know Whats Coming For You But Can't Get Away, Like A Doomed Knome.
I Deliver For Free, Next Time Niggas See Your Name It'll Be On A Tomb Stone.
Theres No Split Personalities, We Know Who We Be.
Problem Is This Cat's Got No Rep, We Don't Know Who Zee-Be.
This Battle's A Free-Be, Put A Hook In His Neck And Make Him Sing Like The Chorus.
He Talk A Lot About Chopping Trees, But Ain't Reffering To The Forest.
The Way My Brain Shines, You Would Think I Was A Diamond Mind, Son.
States In His Profile He Like Women, But Like Church-Goers, Forgot The Part He Get Nun.
This Battles Done, Box In N.C. Any You Still Couldn't Duke Me.
Come Back With A Ghost Writer And You Still Would't Spook Me...

Yea... It's Like That...