A long time ago, like in 03', I was trying to rap and shit, didn't work out, but I tried. And some guys kept getting on me for trying, saying I need to give up. So I wrote this load of bullshit, and they stopped. I don't see it as good, but hey, they stopped and I was proud.
Corny lame ass rhymes is what the HATAS on Da Palace drop//
TR quit holdin' ya dick, ya need to quit mistakin' it for ya 22 pistol glock//
We're lyrical enough to beat you and Da Mafia, hands tied down//
If ya see a shootin' star, that's ya man flyin' down to that ground//
Da Mafia, how bout' lost Omens, who have no idea where their goin'//
I'll drown ya whole crew in the Niagra, and you still ain't gonna be flowin'//
You neva came ova to tha game, ya falldwon like Pez Candy that doesn't dispence//
Claim to be able to compare on our level, but ya can't even jump a 4 foot fence//
Mind runnin' to slow for this complexity?, our words your unable to analyze//
Our punches flow hard compared to ya finga flicks, leavin' ya disordered and paralyzed//
If Urchyn is tha masta, then so is anyone with 14 posts or higher//
We the Gods of "Tha Game", we're alive and fully wired//
You've got to crack tha code, so you can know what level we're truly displaying//
Wonna get past what we're saying, to the intellect we're portraying//
Ya'll rankin' in class 2, vote for crew, then ride their dick//
We failed this class, but ya'll took an "A" home in this//
Tow shots, plus two rocks, and two blocks, equal tha fack you finished//
We'll subract seven from that just to keep you deminished//
B~P~G's raps rip you up and leave you messed ~ with ~ ease//
After all ya battles and ya votes, all tha voters gonna have to check for STDs//
If ya'll fonny ass rappers consider yourselves "Tha Greatest" emcees//
Then "Tha Rap Game" would fit Justin Timberlake and Nsync//
I'm glad you applied to "Tha Game", but its's our job to let you know:Your rhymes are denied//
Not even worthy of family guys, these herbs are just anotha rockstar, they rhymes in disguise//
So audio is not an option for Da Mafia, ya give into textstyle//
Then get a job in the real world, cause everbody in your crew just got exiled//
There'll be a carcus the way we're tossing knives just to blind side ya'll from both sides//
We'll straight out dominate ya'll, like Prince in those cold tights//
This crew'll copy our rymes word for word like their writing documentaries//
We battling in the streetz live, while they wont even be a textyle tournament entry//
Ya'll dont want beef, our shi* is "Lean Quisine" in under 30 seconds//
Ya'll wanna be vets, you still ain't even a probable battle contestent//
We'll make your rhymes stop going unquestioned and cut sections out your small intestants//
Can anybody help them with there comfused rhyme style, cause there now taking suggestions//
We've beaten hundreds of wonnabe's, so 6 in one gets easily layed out//
We gonna do like an audio diss track, and let your faggot asses just fade out//