whoomp! whoomp! im quick as hell, my platinum gloves be bustin skulls...
now how many times you gonna beat me? zip, none, null...

i hope ya momma can wait a while.....on ya death certificate..cuz...
they gonna havta get forensic scientists to figga out what tha reason for death was...

watch me suck ya blood, shrivel you to tha point you be lookin like a prune...
u couldnt spit hot if you was drinkin coffee.....in the middle of june...

boom..boom..thats the sound right before i shoot off ya ears...
then glue dem bitches to ya eyes, all you hear is drops of tears..

im no fear, i knew ya style, laughed at it and wrote this verse...
cause corpses cant talk, and i already called a hearse...

what's worse, is that if you tryed ya best, its still mediocre...
claimin you street.......nigga you just a poser...

...ya punchlines feel like feathers, dustin past my chin...
feels pretty damn good, ill stand still if you want to try again...

if you tryin to make friends, you doin a good job at it...
nevamind, ya friendly fire is right below pathetic...

you comin last like credits, cause im like a blockbuster hit...
and the only time youll win this, is if you wrote out the script...