yeah i keep spitting... i'm rushing through vets
i'ma always circle hits.. like russian roulette
i drop positive raps while i'm fuckin bombin this wack
i'm like jesus on a train, making profits on tracks
i'm part class, part blessed when i spark 'n' hack his chest
the only time hits is in jail is under cardiac arrest
DAMN... you attacked hard, but you left bruised worse
because your punches backfired which proves that the truth hurts
who cares? your verse like broken cradles.. no-ones rocking it
and ya punches lack power, cause you ain't got robotic fists
sockin pricks one after the other.. and pocketing wins
then let you test you casket out and start locking you in
HITS are trash... like fuckin spice girls songs
and in a competition for anal sex only time you'd be number 1
i got you number son.. and punched the hell out of you
you really the shit.. only cause we can't get that smell out of you
right enough of that shit.. i'm just gonna rip it up
cause all i see is pussy like front row at a strip club
HITS sucks.. time for me to progress to round 2...
and i'm known for doggin this fag like hounds do...
i pound you.. and then I pummel your head..
and leave you like the mummy's in egyptian temples.. under rubble and dead......
I totally master hits.. like aftermath...
while he spitting the wackest shit.. in fucking paragraphs
HITS is wacker than the average cat.. he wins no-one
and his chances of winning are like eminem vanishing.. slim to none.......
All sins are gone.. so i can finally finish this shit
And flush him out... now i've really diminished this prick...//
I finish this sick.... in every battle i'm in
cause your like illiterate fucks.. never rhyming
your voice is annoying.. it's just a pain in the ass
I heard you used to be a thunder cloud.. only time you could reign in the past
