ok hea it is, jus a quick throwdown..


Everyone who battles you returns ya ass to the sender
if we were on a game show you be my numba 1 contender
my rhymes are tite they leave u lyrically inclined
ya dun bro, the game left yo ass behind
i think its time for me to start real rhymin, no timing,
no criming, ya words-theas no subliming
keep tryin to reach my peak it aint gunna happen
chickens keep cluckin, flappas keep yappin
you's a wannabe like one of those american idol
cant rhyme, or sing cant believe you aint suicidal
now i know i aint the best, but im closest to pefection
the only thing close to me..is..oh wait...THAS MY REFLECTION!
ya washed up rhymer, along the shore wit those shells
sea water got to ya head, killed all ya brain cells
leave you swimmin wit the fishes throw ya hoes in the ditches
no room for snitches or those low-class bytches
onli publicity shots is ya mug shots
locked up for damagin ppl's ears a whole lot
i hit u in ya weak spot- more often then not
no doubt that i take it to the highest
anyone who listen to this yea they biased
cuz they favor me, 1000 to one
i murdered ya spit and me- i outdone
ya ass- cuz i jus murdered you wit this rhyme
im one wit words and you just anotha in line

any feedback would be nice...

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Crazy spit, her shyt be emaculate...oNe