When I spitt, its satanic you on the edge of wack and hot…but can’t cross that border like his-panics/
While we on mexicanz go put in a taco bell application, cuz my verbal declaration muders your Rhymes with out hesitation /
My lirics raise the souls of ancient-catacombs and wit a blunted blade I split-ya-dome /
You is just-a-clone, You just a look-a-like, like kids wit down syndrome/
Ya rhmyes hold no vocab or punches…like comics, not even practical/
My flows is unmatchable, even aleins feel me…im intergalactical/
I’m standin’ on hells’-cloud-wit-mounds-of-sins-to-count with each bar, yall should give me a-plaque-to-mount*/
I liricaly rip out ya guts, you like “midgets” playing hide-n-seek…”Low Sperm Count*”(lol)/
You could’nt win, if I gave you a list of shit to diss me about* /
You a pussy (cat), So I’ll kill you 9 times in 9 seconds flat, I’ll puncture ya brain then slide it down ya spine` so you can “Think Back`” /