I know your style, play it cool, hope for the best,
You drop a crappy verse and tell god to do the rest.
Because of your difficulty to read, you pissed me off,
“Klauz is got to go first”, cus you too damn soft.
I’ll slap you hard, like I’m doing professional baseball,
Come on, diss me and run, I’ll fucking Chase you all.
You can’t even read my rhymes, you pompous cunt,
I’ma make your pussy ass bleed like it’s that period of month.
Dude, you can’t like me, Cus I’m all mighty,
Don’t just stand there bitch, get over here and fight me.
I have read your lines; I break you on the mic at sight,
Why do I always have to battle peps that can’t write?
Now I’ll say this twice, I hate tards; yeah I hate your kind,
To be nice, I could bend over so you can kiss my great behind.
Man, even your moms despite you, nobody wants to bite you,
And If I cut your head off you’d have the same fucking IQ!
I’m the god in your belief; wow, this shit is getting wild,
You call me your Jesus, and I call you my child.
“Wops” to bad for you that I’ma a child molester,
Let’s just face the facts; K to the Z is fresher.
I’ll take you hostage and abuse you, all when I record it,
Make a porn flick and in the end, I’ll pull your eye out of the orbit.
I’ll rip you and tear your face up, Cat you can’t see me,
Yo I’m a fortune teller and you’ll soon be R.I.P.
“You can’t even read my stanza, so shut the fuck up.”
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