[RuseOfMetacarpi]

Radar's the kinda fool who tries to play it cool
but his grammar gets me hot, musta failed out of school
I slay the rhyme game like a match of rumble swords
meanwhile you're busy mispellin' 4 letter words
your punctuation's horrible
rhyme skills are deplorable
tryin' to step to the freestyle god
you petty mortal
listen quick cuz here's the moral
while you're busy pickin morsels
of shit out of the trashcan
I'm running from the pigs for fun
you can catch me on the dash-cam
with an ounce in my pocket
don't sling, it's all personal
rhymes so hot the mic goes pop like a kernel
I'm movie theatre style baby
silver screen and all
watchou sippin' on homie?
listerine? good call
because the only thing that kicks when you spit
is your whack ass breath
I'm gettin' lightheaded
two seconds from death
but my rhymes are tight-knitted
like your lame ass sweater vest
by the way I like your mother's chest
I like her sweater puppets the best
they keep me warm in this cold ass weather
so spit again bitch, and this time make it better