Nigga you love punishment, you must be an S & M freak
This marks the fifth time I deaded your garbage with my ill technique
How stupid are you homey, a battle only supposed to last three rounds
With your cupcake rhymes, I spit regurgitated bile
You can feel me in your kidneys, when my words get through your ear
I’m ill, I flow nastier than your girl’s pap smear
It amazes me how I’m so ‘wack’, yet you keep comin back
Cuz you know I keep killin your posts from your first key tap
Give it up, do I have to spell out how much Prolif sucks?
Aiight then, watch how this diesel roll over this lil Tonka truck
(P)ay attention when a nigga put (Final) in the title
(R)ealize that’s the last post in any battle recital
(O)pen your eyes to your rhymes, and stop postin rough drafts
(L)ook at how you a college freshman in a graduate class
(I) ain’t the member on this board that you need to be battlin’
(F)ar as I can tell, your rhymes are shaky, but never be ‘rattlin’
(S)hakeet Lokh Em eat any ‘PROLIFic’ emcee
(U)nder the influence or fresh and sober, it don’ matter to me
(C)losin challengers down like catholic churches all over the nation
(K)illin your nursery rhyme rap, through my lyrical suffocation
(S)ave yourself the embarrassment, and resist the urge to reply
Come to grips Bud I’m Weiser, so why ask why