Ok, this is my last verse. I'm gonna keep postin' at this thread for feedback on my verses.

Yo, butcher, you shoulda tried to get someone else to battle.//
How the fuck you know how to rhyme, you was raised by cattle!//
How many people got a piece of that heifer you call mama?//
From George Bush to Bin Laden to the fuckin' Dalai Lama?//
Now watch as I pull a butcher and cut open this cow.//
My lyrical magic leaves muthafuckas like you cryin' "HOW?"//
And now, here comes Kid Killa, prepared to kick anyone's ass.//
Don't step to me again, I'm kinda tired of takin' out the trash.//
His name's butcher but the only thing he can cut is paper.//
Tell your mom's to come to Bk if she wants some Nilla Wafers.//