this fool lee-zilla, he think-he-the-shit
ima get it crackin, mayne bring-me-the-whip
youll be cryin just like, pinky-the-pimp
when im done, spittin-this-heat
he can go back, to grippin-his-meat
mayne u need 2 stop trippin-yur-weak
weaker then a new-born-baby
u think u hard, dude-yur-crazy,
ill have u scared, like a man-on-the-run
yur rhymes is cleaner then the hands-of-a-bum
u against me, is like a gram-to-a-ton
u beatin me, is like the chance-of-a-nun
gettin fucked, then smokin-some-dope
u can try 2 battle, but im hopin-u-choke
its a done deal,u cant see-the-flatz-bitch
u softer then a ortho pedic-matress
oh u thot i was done, but ima take-it-further
at first it was assault, now i'll make-it-murder
i bet u didnt think, youd get hit wit six-teen-more
i bet u sucked more dick then a fil-thee-whore
u cannot spit, yur rhymes is lyrical-junk
ill leave u speechless like a spiritual-monk
ill have u feelin just like a fearful-chump
im here to knock down, any fools-up-top
u need 2 quit rap, n join the school-of-rock
then commit suicide like curt-cobaine
my rhymes is gonna hurt-yo-name
youll have to hide out wit osama-bin-laden
then come out when the dramas-for-gotten
why this foo always be talkin-like-a-snake
after hes dead ima toss-him-in-a-lake
n leave his body to rot-in-the-wake
ima get it crackin, mayne bring-me-the-whip
youll be cryin just like, pinky-the-pimp
when im done, spittin-this-heat
he can go back, to grippin-his-meat
mayne u need 2 stop trippin-yur-weak
weaker then a new-born-baby
u think u hard, dude-yur-crazy,
ill have u scared, like a man-on-the-run
yur rhymes is cleaner then the hands-of-a-bum
u against me, is like a gram-to-a-ton
u beatin me, is like the chance-of-a-nun
gettin fucked, then smokin-some-dope
u can try 2 battle, but im hopin-u-choke
its a done deal,u cant see-the-flatz-bitch
u softer then a ortho pedic-matress
oh u thot i was done, but ima take-it-further
at first it was assault, now i'll make-it-murder
i bet u didnt think, youd get hit wit six-teen-more
i bet u sucked more dick then a fil-thee-whore
u cannot spit, yur rhymes is lyrical-junk
ill leave u speechless like a spiritual-monk
ill have u feelin just like a fearful-chump
im here to knock down, any fools-up-top
u need 2 quit rap, n join the school-of-rock
then commit suicide like curt-cobaine
my rhymes is gonna hurt-yo-name
youll have to hide out wit osama-bin-laden
then come out when the dramas-for-gotten
why this foo always be talkin-like-a-snake
after hes dead ima toss-him-in-a-lake
n leave his body to rot-in-the-wake
