Your rhyming skills lack mass appeal.
You a joke to me and that’s for real.
You gave me a head ache I think I need an aspirin pill.
Keep the hand you dealt because you’ll never get a rapping deal.
I float to the top and you’ll sink like a marble.
I don’t ever want to hear that shit again so brush you teeth and gargle.
There’s no understanding to my rhymes only the rhymes to you understanding.
My words are the initiative they come with out planning.
You can never stay on beat.
You’ll fall to you knees and become one with the concrete.
Sick boy made you, sick boy killed you.
My words are etched in time, and no one’s ever going to fill you.