I got no doubt ya weird faggot, coz you got aint got no clout or beard..
No wonder your rockin a name thats Bent, aint nothing straight about you, queer!
Your nothing compared to me I'm running in a higher gear, feel the mad flow,
What the fucks this old run-down Bentley, when Plots a Rolls-Royce, Silver Shadow.
My styles cappo, yours is hobbo don't step to me son it's a straight contradiction,
Coz you'll be swiftly sent off to the morgue, to practise with stiff competition.
You aint going in places, your a loser and its fact, while I'm showy with graceness,
Not worth anything here dog, but I'm crumpling-up Bens and throwing them in faces.
Yeah I got money to burn, and it was to easy sent you to your rightful grave
Shit I just nuked you in 5 miuntes, fuck it was easier than using my micro-wave.
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