How could my rhymin style ever imitate your wack scheme
That’s like the surgeon general takin the advice of a crack fiend
Ain’t nothing shallow about my bars, I told you I get deep like the Pacific
You ride the short bus to emcee class, I get too many presents, man I’m gifted
Never the Garbage Hall of Fame, you got the joint on lifetime lock
You push more junk than hustlas on the 1st of the month on the block
Your style’s like stinky socks, holdin corny rhymes that just won’t stop
I deliver heat every time dummy, keep spittin at niggas like police glocks
My raps crisp and fresh like Listerine, I only spit the pristine
You not the first emcee to get his head chopped off by the Shakeet guillotine
Your “z’s” don’t flow at all, neither does your “y” through your “a”
Maybe you should get into numerology and express yourself that way
Because you suck at putting words together, let alone an ill rhyme
I should be put in jail for this brutal murder, and get the needle for this capital crime
Shakeet’s a maniac serial killer, known for bitin rapper’s heads off
You in denial like the Vatican about their Crusades against Islam
Now go ahead and be a G.O.A.T. homey cuz God only lookin for sheep
It’s only Tuesday now, but I’ve already waxed you every day of this week
I stay well ahead of the pack, more advanced than those who only think of the present
Shakeet’s 4 dimensional form is a problem, I couldn’t be measured in a sextant

"I'm scientific, but my reflex gangsta"- Black Thought