It's called rapping, you should practice, have you tried it yet?
Without tactics, off the dome, I'll be sicker than you try to get,
Never say shit that'd I regret, no wait I regret this giant wreck,
Dissing you's like kicking below the belt from my perspect-ive
My objective is to make you scared when you look in my direction,
You're already sick of looking at your future wife's reflection,
Rip out ya slimed intestines, ripping at you is my intention,
And you battling me, shit it gets harder than my erection,
Lyricism and skill; it seems like you strive against it,
I've sinned God but fuck saying thy repent it with fine discretion,
You can cry and then slit, locked in your mind detention,
Even if were collaborating it'd look like I'm dissecting,
You're mama mad cause papa should've went to buy protection.
Got rhymes so sick when you look at it you get an eye infection,
Staring at me like it's a guy inspection, I'm just trying to vent; shit,
Getting all crybaby from these lyrical dumbells I've been benching.
Just getting stuff off my mind by writing; practicing multies mostly.