Its simple im just that good-I cant help that your an emotional deadwood--Peckerwood's -what they call me sometimes-And I cant help it if you love my rhymes--victimless crimes-who do they really hurt- like a sripper with no tits its as common as dirt--I never claimed to be an expert-take me off the panel-and when your done doin that can you change the channel--I dont wear flannel-unless in seattle-bring it mutha fuckers is it time to battle--ring yo rattle-punk ass youngstas wit nothin to say-yo rhymes dont deserve to see the light of day--Im worlds away- you lack intelligence-tell me if your seein white elephants--whats the relevance-your lyrics sound sloppy drunk-like johnny cash singin soul ya know funk--nothin in the trunk-but soon you might be-And when I burry your rhymes consider it free--do you have a plan B- its time to think about-better to keep yo mouth shut and thought a fool than speak and remove all doubt--sit the fuckdown silly boy dicks are for chicks-and yo jaws wide open like you been takin lolly licks-watchin porno flicks- hey that yo mom- yo ass is so poor you probably live in a wig wam- and took yo poor ass porno mom to the prom.