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In your small mind you go buck-wild
Even tho your style gets up the bile
I think we gotta call Jules for this fool
Who hurts himself playin’ pocket pool
You go down Chutes, we’re up on the Ladders
Your face get sprayed with the baby batter
And when you wipe your face, what you see?
Another little rhyme by little ol’ me.
See, you got some similarities
To a stank rhymer called EagleG
And uh, its kinda hard to appreciate
Third world rhymes that do not rate
Your rhymes are like noble gas, INERT
Step to my girl and get your feelings hurt
Cause even tho she’s in love with the Bucs
She’s in love with me more and only me, fuck
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