Hey, Russky, you carry no weight
My blows make you levitate
I crash the gate, hit you straight
Make you small-headed like Peter The Great
Face your fate, you do nothing but grate
Hate it or love it, you styile I berate
Poke you in the kisser
You're a lousy self-disser
Here, kiss my ass
Touch the divine with your lips
Buy me – I'm Footsie blue chips
You're just blue like the Crips
Getting caught in my lyrical vortex
Means deep damage to your cortex
"Vex not too far the lion, chained though he be"
Your best choice is to flee
Or get burnt to the third degree
Like a thunder-struck tree
Demise is tired of punching your mug
You're hollow and soft – man, what da fuck?!
You write sh!t and post like you're a worthy match…
Damn, you cannot even scratch
You're a rap-flooderast, spawn verses at will
That's not real, you ain't pat of the deal
Guard you grill, sucker, rhymes kill
I'm skilled with mine
You can't boast one good line