h:

you guys got better, I got no chedder,
my style's straight whack,
so I'm gonna stop before you guys start whoopin my ass like def jam vendetta:fawk:


You bunch of robots, you know not,
who you ****in w/, he's soo hot,
watch the flow drop and rise past ya,
you lil bastards start rhymin faster,
my laughter fills the disaster area,
w/ a rumble that's soundin scarier,
then jet plane's bombin iraq's interior,
My climatic control keeps it hot like the devil's soul,
I got a complex, but it's gone when I flex,
don't let me test and leave you guys layin at rest,
at ya best you can't reach my chest,
it's no contest, I keep it simple stupid,
give you the K.I.S.S. of death,
I'm a lesson to learn you just a hair dresser givin perms,
while my rhyme's stay on a permanent burn,
I got brett sweatin me thinkin he debtin me,
he's just a net mcee w/ inferior weaponry,
talkin bout I jelq, wishing he was packin what come's above my belt:fawk:
that thing that make's the ladies melt,
you shouldn't write checks ya ass can't cash,
if we took it to freestyle everyone'd see the boy can't rap,
I'm nice w/ the mental you freestylin ****in up...like I meant to...
say this or say that, baby boy this ain't rap,
this is ama-chore's, go clean up ur act and come back at 4,
You talkin soo much bull I feel like a fvckin matador....