This ain't a battle its a race//
and when i beat you imma leave foot PRINT's on yo face//
see when i spit it's like gettin' sprayed wit a faceful of mace//
and PRINT, you'll have no choice but to squint//
yo i'm legendary you'll always be secondary//
you cud'nt find 2 words that rhyme in a dictionary//
ur whole verse is fictionary, and it's all the same//
you make less sense than nigga's hooked on Mary-Jane (Marijuana)//
you cud'nt win even wit blatent cheating//
cos its close to halloween n imma bout to go out trick r treating,//
you best start retreating nigga cos when i call by ur house you'll receive a beating//
(ding dong)
It's simple PRINT, your shits a typo//
it's faggots like you that make me turn psycho//
Loco, i'll chop ur right testicle off so the left's left solo//
1 line left and nothin' to say, so it's time to go...hoe//