some quick siccness shit...
not scared- must be impaired off a lot a weed//
try an slaughter me… your numbers up like the lottery//
I ain’t havin it, my skill? You don’t have half of it//
attack like a rabid pit, slash ya wrists and laugh a bit//
a masochist, imagine this- you don’t wanna face me//
kids get found under ground after I’ve “clowned” like Gacy//
can’t ace me- hit Reno to gamble on a safer bet//
in this grudge match, you couldn’t serve me or take the net//