I spit fire

My Clapped fist on the grip of a kalashnikoff

Call him the Czar aka Baptist 'the melon heads' Popov

Don't tempt me, lest I squeeze nuff rounds off

These rhymes right here I got nuff of

Call your bluff like "You ain't been or seen shit boy.. so fuck off"

These bars are like flaming cocktails ; Molotov

Your rhymes don't fit; like OJs hands in a black glove

Your starting too low; my flow is way miles above

This that shit that dem true heads love

Rap has come full circle like doors that revolve

It's a mystery to y'all, a c-rhyme you can't solve

This that Darwinian rap theory, on how the fuck the game has evolved