Crushing writers beneath each written I've laid.
Such a poetic end, now they nitpicking my pace
Make it quick? Nahhh..I slow roast the pig on my plate
Get hit with the razors edge then a toothpick in the face
Now they ask if I chose wit over grace, gift over fate
But after eating so many MC's I was getting overweight
Had to start run-on sentences til it was fitting the page
Now I crunch rhymes like accountants crunch numbers
Everything fresh on site, J your local Fuddruckers
It took years to corner the market with you mu'fuckers
Whether clown or queen, locally found or cuisine
They'll never hold compare to this quarter pound of beef
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.....laugh....and the world laughs with you
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