Diss

if someone

comes by and heard is otherwise

it’ll be for example.. ugh

this place stinks

one mistake lyricist make most

which cost them more than

8 more than 92 is claimin’

their set to step to me

Russian roulette with an M16

describes facing me

basically nobody stands a chance

far and wide, lots of hype trains

get stopped for coming my way

artist who might believe

their nice until we meet

they get killed like an elephant

sat on some mice

 

whenever I enter my element

I’m better than the best

so, if someone comes along

it’s obvious their bent

they try to body this wordsmith

I’m blessed with impressive progression though

think of like a water slide

lyricist, go down quick

anyone foolish enough

such as all from my past

I tell ‘em don’t then ask if they know

the sayin’ that goes, think twice

and take it slow… nah!

too late, they notice

over goin’ against me

their chances of survivin’

being struck by lightnin’

or without a sword fighting

gladiators in Ancient Rome are better

 

someone to ignore

by steppin’ in the danger zone

makes their brain explode

yo, if I’m not the one

it’s to play with I go thru lyricist

as easy as changing

the channel which lets them know

I am way more than

they can handle, am I am Eminem

nope, but an eminent God

legends forgot I’ll leave your head

on the rocks severed and dropped

since grade 10 I’ve never lost

I nonstop slay men on a mission

in hopes it causes who wants to

go next, ta’ come to realization

when it comes to me

competition resemble time machines

to be specific, their non-existent

no man on the planet can beat this lyrical assassins, beast scripts

yo, even being beaten

won’t mean shit though

whether I’m being treated like an elitist or being cheated I tell myself that

if it means stayin’ undefeated

keep going Nathan until who is retarded enough to

vs this wordsmith has retreated

if I find out ya got a ghostwriter

I’ma send a message

sayin’ “he ain’t shit”

he needs trainin’ like a decade

ladies don’t wantcha’

as if your a migraine headache

rather a rapper MC or battler

like it or not it’s my way or the highway

and both go to hell

to who has in mind taken a shot

at me, not only in Guelph

everywhere else tho’ I go as well

I am second to nobody

 

I can tell when a guys a wreck

he’ll come with the belief

like a rest day I can be taken

unaware work I put in daily

I run up and down flights of steps

first do push-ups

then I go out hike for an hour

because health is wealth

not only am I the man

whenever I am in my hometown

I am wherever I go

open your mouth and state

I ain’t, you’ll bite the dust

what I freestyle and got wrote down

always appears everywhere

lyrically so dope, therefore call me

L.S.D… also quickly I must say

like it’s about to really heavily

snow down, to mess with me

comes with a warnin’

I’ll leave your family mournin’

and on sweat shirts

under the words rest in peace ur name.

 

 

 

I wrote for the guy

who wrote for the champ

when deadlines

became closer he overheated something seized

in his brains motor and so

that writers block

transformed from a brick

to a slate boulder

also if I took people to court

that title and chain

would’ve changed owners

so, I’ma hit point

which only digs graves……deeper

he talked about his opponents

not getting pussy… bitch

U don't get laid neither

even if U mixed

straight ether with trees

then had 'em hit laced reefer

and couldn't get a bitch's

legs open with a push-button

switchblade feature

 

people say chicks this prick.. chase

either, laugh at his shit-stained

T-shirt and pig-face features

or run fast enough to rip

suede sneakers in a quick 8 meters

like they just saw

a myth based creature

I’m talkin’ about that once

poker-playin’ kid named Peter

nowadays reaching out

to more minors than

a sick strange preacher

that doubles too as a substitute

fifth grade teacher

a BIG lame creeper

that can’t get girls his age either

I told close your eyes

to take a look back to face the past when ya hit me up

sounding like a fan in high school explaining thatcha’ thought

great described my/raps

so U wanted to collaborate

on tracks but got told no thanks

I’d only spit if ya talked about

that real life rap and state the facts

 

I'd much rather

take an ax to make your faggot face

smashed and shaped

until the handle breaks in-half

like the rest who test the best

they’ll ever go against in Guelph

or somewhere

steppin’ to The Great Nate ain’t safe

I’ll decapitatecha’ ass

instead offer to have him paid

in cash, travel/basics

and a hotel or a lavish place to crash just for a battle date to clash

but got aggravated fast

because no matter

what got put on the line this crab wouldn't grab the bait attached

which made me have to apologize

to every fan that waited

past impatient and got agitated mad while this faggot navigated

past the planned escapes and dash

this lyrical assassin

had to track then chase his ass

now I can finally fly this squares

top off like he’s graduating class

 

also, for your info

I don’t care if ya lost massive weight months ago I told ‘em

I ain't congratulating that

because now it just looks like

ya habit changed

from snacks and cake

to crack and H

or cancer atecha’ fat

but yo, let’s get back to how your pants and waist is packed with so much flab it chafes and aggravates your back

and let it be known when this rancid waste of trash and space

has to take a bath he dislocates

his shoulder reaching back

to wax and shave his ass

because he’s so fat

his weight fluctuates

back to junky traits from all the drugs he takes, so he either

malnourished ribs touching scrape

with his cheeks in a sunken state

or this pumpkin-shaped

repugnant ape that stuff his face

 

like he’s in a rush or race with oven baked dumplings crêpes muffins

cake, fatty cuts of steak

until a disgustin’ glaze

glisten across his grease covered face

then he goes back

for another couple a plates

like he's being polite on a double date until his double chin

makes him suffocate

he won't leave a crumb nor trace

tho’, then his stomach

shakes and the rumble breaks

another chair in his mothers place

 

sometimes U can tell

a true bitch just by who he move with

ya main man got ball sweat

wiped all over his face

and y'all ain't do shit

had that happened to somebody

that’s in a goon clique would’ve gone beyond two fists maybe tho’ your boy is, a toothpick and was outsized

but he wasn't

and his "goons" were there 2 BITCH

all BIG enough to sink a cruise-ship

if y'all had any balls at all

ya would’ve stepped in

and threw quick at-least a few hits

but just stood there

looking stupid and confused

about to lose it

then threw a huge fit.. doofus

who’s got an ill condition

R still afflicted with a pill addiction

so, to get it poppin’

ya gotta go fill prescriptions

just to kill the itchin’, for ur info

even with free healthcare

you’d still need

a team of skilled physicians

A real magician

and Dr. Phil to listen

while feeling Christian

until admission and guilt have driven

U enough to build ambition n develop

a will for quittin’