The truth hurts? Naw it just stings
Respect’s earned like champion rings
Blood, sweat, and tears shed with each new team
Envy is the result of what hard work can bring
Lust, gluttony, greed, laziness, wrath and pride
That’s seven deadly sins to avoid - lord knows I’ve tried
But when the flow’s so dope
Fan’s demand results
So sucker MCs get nothing but smoke
Look at this poor bloke
Trying his best to rhyme what he wrote
But it’s garbage - not quite the outcome he’d hoped
As I bless the track with Hail Marys like Pac and the Pope
Francis, your chances are slim like the brim of a Kangol
Battling me is like reading your documentary’s rating on Fandango
One star because the character lacks depth and creativity
Don’t confuse accomplishment with activity
Careers end as challengers get played off with a low note
Don’t bother to fix it - your whole rhyme apparatus is broke
Base in your face, not a cassette tape
I was writing rhymes while you was copping Bathing Ape
My investment grew exponentially
Yours is out of style and worthless essentially
I cannot be challenged mentally
Any form of malice I’m immune to physically...