Named after a poet but your flow is ****ing pitiful,
Your raps are damn predictable, can’t knock me off the pinnacle,
Master of the syllable, shows I put on are clinical,
If this is the Departed I’m the cop and you’re the criminal.
Think you’re ****in clever before I Mark you with my nine,
You need more than just a little luck—the stars have to align.
Like Carol in HR you’re not all there, that **** was empty,
This just aint your Day Man, your play just isn’t trendy.
You must be sniffin' glue if you thought that trash was treasure,
Now’s your chance to DQ and vanish quick like cheshire.
But I’m the one who’s laughing at your tourney hopes crashing,
My journey’s making waves and you’re stuck in the mud splashing.
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Vive ut Vitas