Eh, Im bored......
Yo this muthaf*cka must have Screech as a ghost writer
In his pics he looks Asian
In his raps he sounds a little whiter
A little lighter
Cuz I spit 10 pounds of rhymes
Stuff it in a gallon bucket
Guaranteed its flowin’ out the other sides
Yo I’m ill with it
And I’m infectin’ ya with every touch
Got you takin’ the backseat like Jan on the Brady Bunch
When I hit you with it
My sh*ts stiffer than 10 shots of straight liquor
Put you
down quicker
Fulfill yo dream of bein’ a
down nigga
Got a hair trigga
And an itchin’ on my index
Let my finger slip
They couldn’t clean that sh*t up with windex
Yo if I wanted an easy ride I woulda called ya girl up on the celly
Yo you aint even tryin’ dawg
I spit better raps from my mama’s belly
And you think jokin’ the Asians is like beatin’ a dead horse?
I’m hungry for competition
You eatin’ Fido for the main course
Yo I see somethin’ in ya eye
Is it that fear that I’m a killa?
I be steppin’ on ya rhymes
Breakin’ ‘em in half like I was Godzirra
A little decent competition would be appreciated...................................... bitches
