Sindrya wrote:New Neros wrote:Fin and Don know what's up
I'll chop your flow like lyrical fajitas
I got draggin' balls like Vegeta
I ain't the type of nigga to bury the hatchet
I'd rather bury you bastards in caskets
You talk like you're cool and stuff
But your rap doesn't make you sounds tough
With a mic on my right, I'm ready to drop bombs
Your rap'll sound trite, you'll run crying to your mom
(No hard feelings, m8.)
Fuck you and your raps,
And all your stupid rhyming.
Haiku master race.
*Drops mic*