I've been so busy lately, I haven't been able to write much. So I made time to write a lil' somethin' here....holla bacc wit feed

I hope you peeped my last battle, the humiliation is hard-to-hide //
Cuz like Aids patients locked up, I left you dieing-inside //
You can try-to-deny, but the facts are real-clear //
You have no hope for success, like Cup-A-braziers //
Three-musketeers, naw I’ll take you down-myself //
Send your death certificate, now you’ve finally found-yourself //
It’s like you speakin’ Spanish, wit all that non-sense-speech //
Cuz I’ll bury you quicker than treasure on a washed-up-beach //
Loss-of-speech, Yeah it’s been known-to-happen //
Which equals the opposite of ya so-called-clappin’ //
Ya gums always movin’ but what you really-sayin’ //
Like pictures on the net, fakeness is what-you-displayin’ //
My style-is-degradin’, It’ll leave ya-feelin’-raped //
It’s sends unknowns to oblivion like you on Planet-of-the-Apes //
I just put-in-my-tape & cats set-up-straight //
They start knoddin’ unconscious, like I slipped ‘em date-rape //
My rhymez don’t degrade…fag, slug, hoe-&-fake //
This ain’t Miss Trina, asses ain’t got to roll-&-shake //
You act like a pussy, but can’t take-the-pressure //
So I’ll relieve ya stress wit empty clips, like a Fake-hair-dresser //