Aight, I got this...
I'm easily the illest, the one ya try to mimic
Hip hop, I live it, fuck the critics, I rip it when I spit it
And Vic won't survive when I lyrically pillage
My words will burn down your entire village
You ain't bringing enough heat to compete with me
I'll turn you into minced meat and skillet your bones dry
It's easy to see you ain't the illest and you already know why
You're in need of another name change but this time don't lie
And I have to ask J-INC, this is a joke, right?
Vic your wack threads bore me
Or I should say, your wack threads bore the illest
I'll steal Slim's screwdriver set to stab you
It doesn't matter, the flat head or the phillips
I jack kids for their spinach, you wanna put some money down
This is serious shit so don't try anything funny clown
HA I have to laugh at my foe thinking his flows will strangle this vet
Little does he know, I'm the angel of death
But he's still trying to angle adept into a corner
When it comes to being ill, the #2 vill is a foreigner
Bitch, you ain't as slick as me, every club I go to, I get in free
And every time I battle, it's a guaranteed victory
