battle
I am Pukka. These are my battles.
Lyrics
You had like a week, and still ya couldn’t take the time/
I could beat your useless shit, and wouldn’t have to make it rhyme/
Look, I stole your beat too, it took like 2 seconds/
And spit a half-ass freestyle that still put you second/
Yeah your flow’s is nice, but I’ll still leave you dead whore/
The fuck’s with your voice, are my old tracks your mentor?/
Another hockey puck line, unoriginal bastard/
Another easy win? Kannon start the next round faster/
My opponents have troubles showin’ up, it’s stage fright/
I swear I scatter more blacks than a bunch of Jake lights/
And what the fuck’s a “Bwal fo awl” or whatever you sung/
Didn’t know I was up against hip-hop’s William Hung/
Open my throat and stick your mic in, that’s pretty dope yo/
Sounded as nice as it did when I said it 2 years ago/
You got nothing on me, your time here has diminished/
Tourney record’s like your second soundclick track, always unfinished/
You love the Twin Cities, but kid there’s only one/
No worries I’ll have you seeing double by the time this round is done/
We know your skill’s pathetic, but what will the voter’s think/
When they see you rate your track 2 lines before you post your link/
I think I’ve completely picked apart the near departed Verbhertz/
My lyrics done flipped his lid to find it filled with Sherbet/
Cause this bitch is soft to the core, not to mention a little fruity/
That got ate the fuck up like every other audio newbie/
