son, callin me out is like wanting a mallet striking ur facial complexity/
awake in the hospital half dead wit ur brain feelin sum deep perplexity/
why these battlers so fearfull ta spitt first/
cause ma punches will turn ur t's to red shirts/
damn homophobia, it fuels most a my rhymes like gasoline/
nigga u so homo dat ur ass farts out vaseline/
against me no chance is seen/
cause ta ripp ******* like u is wut ma body feens/
u aint spitt yet, but ur career is threw/
cause i aint drop a verse, i just droped u/
i hope u got sumthin, i liked some a those punches.
~1~
