Lyrics
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Verse 1 - Beat 1
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so let me get this shit straight,
how the fuck can this be happenin,
i'm charged with tragic rates,
i shoulda left you on a napkin,
the next round is looking slim,
fuck TWD, call you TWA,
cuz of the way you crashin,
i'm takin you down with 1 shin,
so i'm makin tragic a tragedy,
round 3 see tragic,
hell nah, now thats a catastrophy,
im gettin more votes,
than your yearly salary,
i peeped your tragic flow,
truly the worst disaster,
not to mention that shorty B hoe,
both ya'll need to get plastered,
fit you both in 1 casket,
no nuts in your basket,
but i'll bring the flowers,
i'm the one to cause your death,
round 2 you over powered,
can't write cuz of the stress,
i ripped the pressure in your chest,
right through your gore-tex,
im rockin your face,
like coverin mini me with latex,
you eatin so much dick,
than Jeffrey Dahmer had gay sex,
you must be one deaf kid,
i suggest goin back to text,
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Verse 2 - Beat 2
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so now you think you can shyne?,
damn son, watch me close the blinds,
change the fuckin spotlight,
put that shit on mine,
you sure you wanna continue?,
cuz theres no change back time,
you signed your own deathwish,
the second you start to rhyme,
your place is relevant to time,
you maybe deserve a second,
plus a piece of my mind,
son, im heatseeking,
this your time to hide,
forget slappin your jaw,
my shit's above rip tides,
never try to ride wit me,
you can lock the doors,
still gettin thrown out with the seat,
you ridin shotgun,
tryin to call that heat,
fuck rhymin to a beat,
i got you really runnin streets,
mark your forehead wit an X,
make history in america,
slap your teeth on the pavement,
for not bein trapped by latex,
kinda tragic your parents
aint practice havin safe sex,
you been neutered by 2 vets,
fagget got such a small dick,
catchin head from dust mites,
i can't even mention the rest,
fuck the police,
i'm puttin you under a cardiac arrest,
plus your bars ain't fat joe,
reppin D block as someone's hoe,
fuck ankle bracelets,
i'm takin all ya chains,
got you thinkin like SAT tests,
forgettin how to spell ya name,
this what you get for tryin to rap,
this ain't no fuckin fisher price game,
if you get clapped, well then i guess that's that,
i really doubt you can draw a crowd,
maybe if you talkin to a piece of paper,
mind yourself when you speakin outloud,
maybe i'll peep your shit later,
so call my jay-z in this shit,
i blueprint ya whole life on paper,
smack you wit my album,
now thats for bein a fuckin hater,
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Verse 3 - Beat 3
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now you spendin time in jail,
mailman workin hard, truly handlin all male,
i got you lookin pail,
no chance to prevail,
if you got chips,
i'm turning them stale,
if you a fish,
i'm rippin your scale,
give you a 10 for you losin record,
now hail me cuz i found you a place, it's second,
said it before and i'm say it again,
i'm first with the mic in my hand,
you're just comedy i can't stand,
so tragic that your name i cant chant,
kick you in the balls,
pop your urinary gland,
so there's a meanin to my intro,
thinkin impaired sound like tragic with no flow,
you can search your photo album,
but you'll never find waldo,
forget what you been told,
put your torso in the freezer,
ice your neck before it meets the beater,
call you taliban and stick bombs in your ass,
now i can trully call you a wide receiver,
you don't pop gats,
you pop tarts, a cereal killer,
you may not be a loser,
cuz you a never winner,
you wanna see a side-show freak?,
look in the mirror,
you only good for a week,
cuz your days are over,
about as ugly lookin as a land rover,
you lookin white wit no color,
you make a joke out of dumb and dumber,
lookin like pee-wee waterin flowers,
i got you shook still like the empire
