X-kaliber... you have some Sloppy Shots, talk so much Outta your ass he uses "Enemas for Lollipops"//
Stop-please Stop, ya Rhymes Went Out Quicker then ya Backwards Cap-and-Jersey!//
With 3 Months Gone You Thought Enough Writs Could Suffice to Hurt-Me//
It's Unearthly, Believed if ya Wore Lakers 42...that You'd Actually be WORTHY//
Worst-Scene is when I Crack Knuckles till I Won't Stop or till ya Joints Spell Out Mercy//
Ask "John" Shit "Maddens" Me, When Tourney's, Obviously Rigged-and-Fixed//
Live-with-This, and You'll Get Exposed then Bankrupt as the Emron's-Business-is//
Witness-this as I Ignite-Alms, with Tight-Psalms, into ya White-Palms//
Then Make ya Swallow Napalm, till ya Intestinal Tracts Collapses as Pipe-Bombs//
Ya Sights-Gone thinkin you can fuck with me?, bitch how you Make it to the Finals coz You're No Contest to lee//
I'll Slice this Dykes-Tongue, then Lynch this Puppet by the Strings He's Supported-By//
He Must've Been Delivered by Clinton & Nixon coz He's Born-With-Lies!//
inasense will Diss-Figure this Diss'd-Figure then Organize his Organ-Eyes//
in the Hollow-Crevices of Vertebrae- COLUMN......as He Sports-a-Slice//
From my Assorted-Knives, that Tore-thru-Spines, with a Forceful-Plight//
U've Adored-my-Lines, it's Like Walkin to Battles with ya Ass Up coz ya Shown-Shit//
Coz Ya Presence, is About as Strong as ya Swamp Meets Cheap Cologne Kit//
Ya Blown-Wig's Negligent as Disowned-Kids, And Have a Firm Hold-Grip the Soul-Rips//
With Boldness, inasense Tears Apart Pudding-Jars coz I'm Rippin this Fudge-Packer,
I Crush-Cats, in this Grudge-Match, then Slash Open ya Mid Section Revalin ya Dumb ass self...fuckin slacker//
pz... start the votes