Chorus:
To whom it may concern cause you'll all get burned,
it seems critics still wanna jump on my screen because they still have'nt learned.
I'm gonna hold my squad down until we cease work and they wash their hands,
solo bad boy this ain't no making the band it ain't no beef no more cause a lot of you cats look like spam. (2x)

...like spam
Verse:
With error on your boards, cause I bring fear to the sphere like there's terror on my swords,
and I cut to flip ya face so bad it's like a mirror on your cards.
The heat I drop is so hot it's like the atomic blew,
many cats don't belong on here got a better chance on comic view,
I blaze the area without bringing no chronic through,
and I could sell out arenas from keyboards like Kemp back in the days with the Supersonic crew.
Soft troops step to the left and let the real players compete,
cause even on a computer you need a beat there ain't no room in this fam. we disown you kid hit the street.
Nigga this that ghetto fam. that you hate to bring your friends around,
man throw your pc away, never freestyle again, and don't even think about a pad put ya pen down,
I'm sure Barnum and Bailey's is looking for some clowns,
cats sweating my squad so hard I'm sure they lost a few pounds,
the only way we'll take you in is as the first female in a battle with a fatigued gown.
Chick, you better off poppin' ya lip,
or poppin' ya clit,
I can't believe some had the audacity to think of dropping a script,
calling theirselves hip hop but more like hopping from the hip,
come on La. Fam. ya'll thinking about adopting filthy spit.
Man some of you fools favorite rappers are Young Mc, Vanilla Ice, and Mc Hammer,
faggot dudes will probably step in our click sporting pink bandanas,
trying to wash up our flow and sink our glamour.
Losers could never roll with these here winners,
man ya'll save yourselves before ya choke on your lyrics and get arthritis in ya fingers.
This to ya'll who wanna play Siskel and Elbert before he died,
with records like Chicago Bulls since they lost that ill bald headed guy.
Man I'm gonna end this with a middle finger, grabbing my crotch, and a smile,
chumps don't let my riddles sting ya for bragging one of my words will jump out and bust ya in the eye just for watching my style.

Chorus:
To whom it may concern cause you'll all get burned,
it seems critics still wanna jump on my screen because they still have'nt learned.
I'm gonna hold my squad down until we cease work and they wash their hands,
solo bad boy this ain't no making the band it ain't no beef no more cause a lot of you cats look like spam. (2x)

Ad Libs:
This to all you punk mc's who get on here dissin' the next man coming with that pure fire, and ya'll coming on the screen with ya'll twisted perceptions, get some glasses cunt.

It's real talk across these pages, I've seen a lot of talent on here, but I've also seen a lot of jealous, hatin', female acting spitters on these pages as well, get ya lip busted on the corner fool.

Let me see ya'll, come to my block. We roll with duck and throws on this side scared nigga. Get ya gat, I'm ready to take this to the ring, and you trying to shoot, shoot them fists nigga.

Aiight let me hold back, I'm getting besides myself, but this ATL. folk, all the way from QU borough to the East side homes, that DEC! Raise up or get laid up. Stop talking if you ain't got no scars, cause I'm trying to step in the field just like you let's work together. ONE!