Looney

Damn, you rap shit, crying gangsters, the type of ass that

wears a pacifying necklace, with diapers dampened

I'm a fighter, and then some, you're a fido, no pants on

we have guests, come on, put 'em on tighter, rep your best songs

Where's your vest son? death's on the cassette slot, not resurrection

not even on the next one, that's my tech gun, better grab your barrettes

why haven't you fled, run! Your fat #buns gonna be part of my #Mac's lunch

I'm on max stun, my phasers ain't gonna taze ya, they gonna crack some,

You're on a facts crunch, frantically stumped, for a reference one,

That could make some sense, to make amends, to take a stand, to make it tense

You hate this damn, an attack drummed, off-#key, to no effects done.

See, nobody #adores 'we' if it's not me whatever the rap's on.

No matter however your embittered being endeavours with dread, scorn

to better me, you're still a Guinness, weak to hennessy off the cap, #come

#paired like #analogies, I'm earning #capital, you're the #lesser #g, That's all from me

Folks, you're a toon, looney, rapidly beat by me, the bugging bunny with rabbit feet, in this rapping feat