The high u got from…
beatin a legend; surpasses any army of chicks in a party of spliffs
robbing me’s ya signature win… since it won’t happen again u stealing sharpies to sniff
ur gunplay’s weak; so I’ll deflate ya ego cuz u’ve wronged the style
u don’t have a killer draw… more like Brady’s sketch artist was hired for the Boston Bomber’s trial
you don’t know how to word ya punches so to try’s unfair
my wordplay’s the best or in the discussion… u askin how to do it right in there
u swear the Suicide Squad has ya back but as it turns out…
isn’t it Odd… they tagged with others while u got eliminated with him in the 1st round
u really a scared pussy; so all that gun talk don’t impress son
u show signs of being yellow… & hold on to the walls when u see a slippery when wet one
I beat the better version of u without rhyming; so u’ll get crushed
if this is sweet revenge for Murda… all I need is a warm glass of milk to kill that Sugar rush
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Grumpy old man.
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