wit a rhyme i can kill human kind
u a soap star Tyrone, im da director that will always foward the days of ur lives
18: 7 before ur generation kiddo but but i sleep on ur lingo
before vampires bed time
i diss u half pa**d out dont even bother to write
u aint a player u a cheese boy who only date sluts
u aint phat u over fed, u aint smart u high on dumbness wit ur reps
u a fag wit twin c***s
im too sharp, shots squick out and split open ur body parts
f*** around i safocate u with ur own body parts
who want what, bring ur crew times two
i'll still trouble u, this aint alementary
i stay slayin fake men, Money so broke he need glue
to take note and pay full single attention
when u sexin ur chick falls alseep facin ur lameness
then when my song plays her clit turns to a water fall
u were suppose to be dead the greater power got u on a stall
before u battle me please grow a pair of balls