I was told you were an MC so what’s stopping ya
You rhymes drop tickets sales like ya the phantom of the Opera
Executive of what, no hate I ain’t knocking ya
But your Off the beat like retired police officers
There’s no flow caught in ya we might as well physically brawl
You calm your not wack but possession is nine-tenths of the law
Spit I spew is more ill the the core of Sarrs
If I punch you your head explode like I was Fist of the North star
Fouth bar was liquor heist or your 5th loss
Right now this punch don’t apply but bitch get off
You wouldn’t know a hot scene if they caution taped hell
Couldn’t gamble on raw delivery if the stakes were mailed
I’m a vet the made the transition from old school
Standing on a mirrors how you’ see MC’s below you
You’re the bitch of the crew Mic cannibals control you
In slow mo on theres no flow in our whole post dude
