I thinkk u suck. u shouldnt rhyme any more. leave and die....

YO!!!tell me something, u ready for what this felon's pumpin?
i'll hit in ya chest so hard u can lick the lint up out ya belly button
gun'll wrinkle out ya fade, then i'll sink u in ya grave
@ school sons in 'Special Ed', now he think he 'got it made'
until i burts thru ya speaka, go second and my verse still would beat ya
but since i'm a gent, i guess its 'ladies first' like Latifah
and 'put em in a hearst' is my moto, so i spit words in a bottle
and make the whole crowd hurl em at u, like u Fred Durst in Chicago
som stay displaying that.. when i spit rhymes i'm layin facts,
while ya lines r more far fetched than paul bunyan playin catch
so listen Pal u a fruit, iliterate.. with no talent to boot
u the prick usin sif lines when ya rhymes look like sif's alphabet soup
for u rappings a fellon, in ya basement trapped in ya dwellins
30 & ya circle of friends consists of puppet named captin magelan
flow like when waters comes thru, i'll slaugher bucks 2
cuz ya Baby Momma Momma..
shoulda known better than to let her daughter fuck you