I Swing swords and for that I win awards, I slice mcs like butter toast, cook the mic like a roast, I post your brutally battered carcue on the web to prove a point, like a preacher I adnote, with rhymes that cause yall to drop your jaw, cause my rhymes are like slam duck if this was basketball, hardcore, knock you down and give you 2 seconds to give up unless its blood you want to give up, bash your face in, mash you like potatoes, causes its record companies who pay those, mcs that lose to me quickly blood shed from there head leaving them dead, like an end oh well the cops don’t know my name, you don’t got one lyrical punch that’s a shame, cause I got punch line raps that swing like Tyson, that would make you think I need a linscen, for these legal weapons that got you stepping in the opposite direction, cause without your crew you dare not try some testing, so bitch hold your breath cause when you get the gun smoke in your lungs it burns your chest

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I wouldn't Blow in I was in a windy storm, You rappers are just bitches you spit the norm