aint built for the kind shit
I'm built for the rhyme shit
when my verbal and literal nine spit
see foolish clowns hit
my verbs are cold ,my nouns sick
let it spread to your words
thats how i murder your verse
I'm on that shotgun your dad, rifle your coach shit
axe to your spine, knife to your throat shit
that break branches ,kill and eat your own goat shit
fuck ya granny then do a line of coke shit
no hope shit but you already new that
that antonym of urkel,yeah i did do that
welcomin whitemen to the gulag
make fat bozos move back
strait serving while you eat this ,chew that
from behind the computer i can tap into your medulla...
oblongata to turn your brains to chicken noodles- not talking harlem daughters