well, you aren't me and you're you and your arts weak
go read ninety eighty four because you're using fart speak
learn how to write kid, because i got a faster spacial heater
there's no rhyme, so a bar's not placed after 'facial features'
or hospital, you spit like you got the goal of my cock to hold
i kill your bars, eat your heart, piss on you and stomp your soul
no one gave respect to you; so really there's nothing to diss
the only train wreck is you, for real, you suck with the spit