Even if you post a sick rhyme, you're still gonna lose to me for the fifth time
So get the fuck out of my way bitch the tournament crown is mine
It's easy to see I'm too hungry and I'm never tasting defeat
And when you're recording, you're just wasting the beat
Phat tracks, you've laced none, now you're gettin slayed son
Just like you have been from day one
All you can do is pray some kind of miracle happens
Like all of my rhymes go out of lyrical fashion
But you of all people should know that this vet is ruthless
And if you think Adept is stupid then you'll be executed
I'm servin this kid cuz he doesn't deserve to be in the tournament finals
After this verse, someone better be checkin his vitals
CT reminds me of Sanjaya from American Idol, he's mocked by everyone
And it's a well known fact that fuckin with Fols is plenty fun
It's just too bad that I only get to do it about once a year
And the only way I'm gettin wasted by CT is if he buys me several jugs of beer
Fuckin queer, don't ever say Adept is a fag, you're the one dressin in drag
Even your own mother has to question your faith
And I'll fuck the shit out of her, literally, I'll make her shit the bed
But first I gotta make sure that SHE gets some head
So I'll cut yours off, put it in a box, and send it to her, gift wrapped
Seriously, you should just quit rap, but me, I make emcees fiend like I spit crack
And this kid's voice is squeakier than my bed springs
He'll never be able to match the heat Adept brings