quiick spiitz 2

i spit, i rip, i tear u niggas 2 paper pieces.
ima shredder muthafucka, i use metaphorific thesis.
plottin out peaceness, but if u tryna step ima give u til 3 bitch.
then u go 2 sleep bitch.

im hot like emission. known like a superstition,
gone off n a world that the avatars be livin.
man why u trippin? u better lace it up,
cuz if u dnt, then ur girl is mine 2 fuck,
u departed outta luck, now my gat quick 2 bust,
but she can handle that, over nd over,
nd it still aint enuff.

my game go ruff, like zapp nd roger.
straight outta cali, north bound, i dnt take offers.
ima flosser, big tyme boxer, get u wit that mean one

Check,

You type your Shit like a uncoordinated spelling-bee,
Results of a child that must of fallen off a balcony,
Battle me?,
Possibly, maybe, supposedly,
Slaying MC's, how can he?
Mr. X, it Fucken has to be.
Skiping' words, similar to my classes in school,
Dunking rhymes like when I drown cats in swimming pools,
I act the fool,
When it comes to this stuff,
I call ya' bluff,
And raise it 10 with a punch',
Smack ya' teeth down your throat,
Kick ya' in the balls, 'cause that's the antidote.

Mr X ? Yo, that name's up for a switch
Xzibit, DMX, and now this little bitch?
Talkin bout school and spelling-bee
When your ass missed'em both from too much MTV

Fucked up chilldhood, nigga where were you born?
You fucking drowning cats and jerkin' to gay porn
Grown up, tryna battle online and drop bombs
But lookin over you shoulder cause you still live with your moms

droppin shitty flows like a stupid crack-smoker
talkin bout bluffs? nigga this ain't no fucking poker
For real, though, your verse was pretty tight
But you'll need more to fuck with a pro, 'aight?

Check,

Talkin' Shit about my user-name, Yo that's cool?
Your's is Slim, short off the Shady - Fuck that's original,
A skeptical..., heterosexual,
That's all I get from your lines, so be more tactical',
May even help if you wore some spectacles.

And now its all about ragg'n on my 'upbringing',
'Least I wasn't fiddled by the Priest after choir singing,
Dick's still stinging?'
From after all them years,
Of abusive, and your parents never gave a Fuck or cared,
'Cause you was the child that hugged the stairs,
All scared, when they fought and sweared.

Lastly, you're taking pot-shots of my flow and how I rhyme,
The Shit you typed, I could of wrote in half the time,
Transform some metaphors and make it better - Optimus Prime.
But I do gott'a thank you for givin' me props on my verse,
Say'n you're a veteran,
But somewhere down the line we will see who will come first.