Limn gets sunned If I rhymed about timbs and guns
Dim this bum, him seeing a win in this is slim to none
They never been seen together like a gym and Pun
Win is done, so often it’s religious like hymns and nuns
Listen sun, ya bars couldn’t shine if you waxed them
You’re an afterthought like text in the pages of Maxim
Spits filled with wit tear Limn into bits eaten like Ritz
Only snatch he’s ever seen was a flick with Brad Pitt
So called hits are dull, mine are Sharpe like Shannon
Punches are straight poor, mine are Rich like Gannon
Wait where are your punches they’re always absent
While mine rival perfection like they were God sent
Flow won’t do it alone kid, lyrically you’re fragile
Ya lacking the skills to battle an emcee this agile
Browsed your site and found you got three albums
Not one sold and you rhyming about going platinum
Get the fuck outta here..
An abzent minded lyricst with no regard to kids
Get rid of all chances of Limn earning a playoff bid
Leave Limn limbless limping, the names symbolic
I’m left without a bruise like recovering alcoholics
Don’t get ahead of yourself…
I’ll slice your neck and give it to ya…
Week 5 W.E.F tourney…
tro… must be a funeral they way I’m handing out tissues
blow ya nose kid…and wipe them tears…
