Smash boards and drop jaws, I’m rap’s Blake Griffin
Stop, rewind, pause… now loop it like I’m GIF’in.
Can’t stop my trajectory, fly high like I’m in Sector Z,
Your tournament is over, unfortunate to battle me.
Don’t expect an upset, my rhymes makin’ your mom wet
Your **** stinks so bad it clears the room like a bomb threat.
The Party’s winding Down before you even got your first set,
Your career is over *****-- “are we having fun yet?”
Strike below the belt, breaking balls like vasectomy,
My heat is radiating while you can’t detect yours rectally.
Reject attempts to lecture me cause I’ll be this round’s teacher,
This ain’t Sunday School but I’d suggest you get your preacher.
(Thanks for the leniency once again)
--
Vive ut Vitas