yea i'm the lyrical rhyme whore everybody wants some
have ya chokin on herpes after i spit in ya lung
takin offense to nigga? niggor? or nigger?
i split back ya wigga in every shape form and figure
dead president? who laid you to rest? freedom of speach?
ya styles irrelevant made the best rhymes shit you can't breach
i don't even know you and where the fuck is walnut hills?
i spit the real that give ya spine a chill now you know the deal
how you gonna try dissin? when you got thumbs up ya butt hole
bussin nut and be kissin men but then again i mentioned my style ascension
you a Czar?well i'm the russian mob chew u up spit u out like corn on da cob
crooks? you get got and took stop actin like you livin what you read in books
i drop the bomb like pearl harbor immigrant oysters whos backs had moisture
incase you didnt know my style fatter then eD's head words cause blood shed
middle finger to the red white and blue your worn out like vaginas
slumped over J.F.K theres a clue 6 feet in a grave where no body can find ya
believe it or not it was off the dome.