whoa, calm down, don't do nothin drastic son,
you aint got a gun, nah, none, not even a plastic one.
i feel bad for you, but you're brave to carry on in spite of severed dreams,
in spite of the fact you're the worst mc i've ever seen,
perhaps that's the reason why you pleasure teens, and treasure screams,
and visit s & m clubs in nothing but your leather jeans.
plus a pair of nipple clamps, and electrodes on your testicles,
you keep saying that your gangsta, but to be honest i'm a bit skepticle,
you might impress young boys with that but i'm less susceptible,
so if you stepped up to me your face would get less symetrical.
on top of sh.it rhymes your chats aren't even humorous,
but my rhymes be flying high, so you can call me cumulus,
your lyrics are just repetitive but mine are fuc.king numerous,
so when i'm battling you i can afford to be unscrupulous.
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