too much trash talk, get to it...
you chumps chat more **** than ******* at a beauty salon,
before you get to spitting you make sure your make ups on,
that’s all I can conclude from this weak arse trash talk,
you mouth is running fast but feet cant walk the walk,
my words bomb like an arsenal, but you can call me Ratchet,
my verse soars like a hand grenade and you cant help but catch it,
you’re the attack of the clones, and im the master mold,
I’ll douse the flames of Hades and leave you carbon copies cold, 8
I’ll slap in you your face, like Larry Graham playing bass,
This aint bad boy b***hes, but when I spit it’s like mace,
More more more, i hear the angry mob roar,
Im the gladiator, punk, Im here to settle your score,
My words blow like a whirlwind and wipe away your facial features,
I’ll rip you to shreds and leave your carcass to the creatures,
I showed you up in public, but you won’t admit defeat,
don’t have me use my pinky and slap you back into your seat!
bring it!!!