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MP3 2.9 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Lyrics
I’m at ya soundclick page now, and It’s hurting my ears,
If you ever played in a real rown, you’d meet curses and jeers
Cuz ya style is the worst of the year, and person with no beer
Givin a toast with strep throat resembles ya page the most, cuz there’s nothing to hear here
I diss queers and faggots in groups, I switch gears automatic like coup deville’s
When I battle, son I’m shootin to kill, I’m takin out gay warlocks, and making magical fruits disappear, troop
Listen here you boring ya battle was hard to peep, like snow white this magic apple had me fallin asleep
Who you barking at re-dogg ya clown nigga, I gave ya moms an extra dollar for head and called it cow tippin
Cuz she a fat bitch, you wack duke ya raps bad news, come postage due from italy,
Cuz nobody in theh states gon pay for that type of delivery, and that other kdi is haunted by the fact that he’s wild corny
Styles would never do that song again he heard the way you sounded on it
I’m pounding on ya ego to torture ya soul, and I been eatin a apple a day since I was four years old
I’m lord of the throne, I’m blessed with natural flow dunny, while these dummies stress they next lines like coke addicts wit no money,
It’s so funny , neither of ya’ll can match me in sound, I’m too blunt to get smoked in ya’ll cipher so I’m getting passed a round
Astounded by my illness and realness on course to a win? Judging by his skills I’ll never say I’m sick as a dogg again
Cuz I’d be insultin my self, you ain’t felt at all, I’ll run circles around you bitch and call you a lap dogg back off, you ain’t had one thing decent to say, the fact you call yourself a dogg just proves you was bitch made
I’ll switch blade ya father fleece him and bounce to the yard, leave you looking for the man who jacked ya paw like a three legged dogg
at least let it all hang out in this round ya’ll so when you get beat you ain’t got no weak excuses breaking ya fall.
I’m raping you hard and fast and brak ing ya jaws of glass there’s a gapin separation of skill between me and both of ya’ll ass
You hopelessly gassed, bastard, you suck and you’re fully wack, I ever catch you in my hood I’ll be pullin some magic apple jacks
The fact is, and I’m frank, son you’ dweeb, and you prolly shootin blank, you’l be the only aplle with no seeds
Ya slow speed of thought and ya flow in it’s sad state is exacty the reason you either coming in 3rd or in last place
The gas face is what you deserve, you and that other herb, if either of ya’ll get a vote, then this whole tourney’s absurd
I’m the best as far as ya’ll concerned, so just styudy what you’ve learned, the closest ya’ll getting to gutter is when I kcik youo to the curb mutha fuckas
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