#OldYe1

Niggas sleepin' on me, how I fuck a beat up like Tay Keith
I bury 'em eight-feet, I'm a pitbull with rabies
You a daisy like Duke, your shit makes me puke
I'm still wondering how you came into the game on a fluke
Bruh, your shit's too saccharine
You're asinine for getting the slightest idea
That you could fuck with these battle rhymes
But it don't matter, I'm
Gonna crush you
With these bars that'll have you thinking that Young Metro didn't trust you
The way I flow so perfectly
And Murda Beatz
Is third degree
I spit sashimi, they spit nursery
You've heard of me?
It's TEK-22
Fresh out of the NC
Never frozen like Wendy's
If you want beef, I spit lyrical frenzies
I won't stop until I've made it like Mike Will
If you don't give me my deserved respect, then I will
Be forced to take it from you
How come you

Are trying to tweak in my presence

Knowing damn well I'll hit you with the 1,2

And a biscuit

Ain't shit gravy

Mumble rappers don't amaze me

Speaking crazy

They fuckin' lazy

Like that maid Florence

While I'm lyrically moving up like Jefferson

Rhyming like a fucking veteran

If rap's a sport, call me a letterman

No jackets

The fact is

To get on my fuckin' level, it takes practice

Ripping niggas like fabrics

And won't stop until these shits are fuckin cassics

And that is

The end of this song