I hear you talkin' shit, bro you think you're the heat Please bow down to defeat you're barely mince meat Stop with the street talk, and start to do the street, walk Lock yourself in and tell me this, how you gonna battle with this sick shit that I spit bitch See you still flappin' your jaws, prepare to be thrown in the ocean In the middle with jaws Or prefer to be served and severed with claws, knock on the doors Of absolute death you may But please be ready for the automatic failures you may make So take this and wait for another dismembering, remembering The tethering of your dream and how it was minced to pieces