I been the best dawg

I'mma hit you with chicken breastwith the crystal meth sauce

I split your neck crossed'

hit you in the ribs and chest, bitch I'll rip your flesh off

I been depressed, but my intellects boss

it's cause' the simpler shits think they're nimble, they're pricks

and like the stitch to the thimble I'm thinkin' to get crossed

fixin' to stitch all these weak sauce rappers, re-assemblethe articles that these farticle imbicillical twits

leaped on to adverritisably sell their little turds which

they think are an art form

but they are consisted of brazillian fart porn

my heart is the corn to the valley

formed in the alley

you tally that feeds all peasants who rally

in the name of the king but could equally rally to smash fallaciesout of his ass hole