Untitled Song

A rhyme, and a line at a time I score bitches,

Spread corpses so far they can't use forensics,

Yep, Imma be some riches to more riches

You're spitting poor disses thats a poor decision

I rhyme tight, rip bored kids with more rips then my mic,

You pretentious prick, go choke on cyanide,

I'll remove your happiness with rappin' hits,

Course it is me ruling my own life, when you try to ride

out your life you just end up bout' to cry and hide

I'm over here livin' so right you ain't got the height to ride,

I have some advice aight? It'd be better if you might decide

not to write no lines because no one likes your rhymes,

Writing raps, a word warrior, acting like you gotta righteous mind

Against mine but keep thinking and your career might just die,

Now you a one hit wonder, overhyped shit lines

that people think will light the sky,