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IP:
Bastards get smacked quick,ya got that garbage flow, trash it,
Tryna make a habit of beatin my ass? You need more practice,*
Pullin gat clips, hear my ryhmes and the chicks have to dance,
Ya not on my level, its a stretch fittin in with me like elastic pants,
Your probably imagine your the illest, hahahaha, except your not,
When my lines assemble 'picture' yourself beaten, like connect the dots,**
Speaking of childrens games, refrain from approachin me with copies,
Incohherent lyrics are prohibited, like it was smokin in hotel lobbies,
Hope ya go tell mommy, when I cause damage to your memory,
Hit hard blows on your brain, improbable you'll remember her instead of me,
Leave Hattrick in shock trauma, drop bombs till ya not concious,
You spend more time tryna be the center of attention like 'hot' watches,***
Listen man, this is survival on the fittest and I fitted for this shit,
And you? Keep your feminine-self in the shadows, like ninjas with lipstick,
God damn Hattrick... sigh.... im honestly disapointed in you son,
Your steady tryna stick hott shit to me and missin more than an miss-shot glue gun,
Don't matter though.. Im rubber, it bounces off me and they all bunch in a shell,
And head back in your direction so dawg, please quit 'punchin' yourself...
*Not the first time we've battled... he beat me the first time
**Lines assemble when your connectin the dots.. and make a picture
***Hot as in stolen
Last line-Glue gun... Hot glue melted... glue.. sticky.. lol
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