Chris crossland wanna be a barber/ so I'll race the blade across his wrist/ and necks up/ I'm offin heads in this bitch/then I'm across land to huddersfield/ like I'm a pimpin- don juan/ buckin shots like it's just a hunters field/ and my shots- will fuck up jons/ thats rubber bullets to chest- NAH/ this no cop-or-feel/ cuz my bars are gold and the pipe- IS STEEL/ so smokin this cracker like an oven since my shovin' steal / AND I got brass balls/ but my knuckles- KILL/ steppin up to me/ you should have took a Di-YET pill/ cuz fam you ain't even got the nuts of a PIG to squeal/ so this rat bastard stepped to ME in the ring/ so I'll BOX him ill/ hit him with a left right combo/ like a pretzel when I fold him up for the kill/ cuz this star-BURST packing punches for real/ even tyson would bite my style after lending an ear/ while chris's angel/stuck- just spinning in gear/ I'll wind up-dump the clutch/ burn rubber and FUCK up his goodyear/ cuz I'm from kill-waukee were we buck with NO deer/ and in brew city we serve shots/ and leave Canada DRY for the beer/ or I can brew up a coors light and drive a silver bullet to this Canadian queer/ that'll make 7 up/ when I spike him and 6 of his friends for the doe like they're deer/ mount em on my wall like the album he dont have/ like I got platinum for the platform/ for this being battle of the year/ since this is a barbers head/and I bladed dead up just to show I can fade his neck/ but this just a show/ and chris blades a check/ just look at his car/ his house its a mess/ and his life- I wrecked/ like death was the sentence/ and he just wrote- YES/ so was it a question or is it his guest/ inviting royal shots into his chest/ expecting me to give it my all when he gave it his best/ here's a hollow tip like a badge for your vest/ dont let it got to your head/ from the feelings in your chest/ your still filled with nothing but bless/ as I praise these bullets make their way/ I'll get satanic and take over his brain/ dark like blackness- and then all he thinks is the grave/ practice what you preach but screech is already/ 6 feet- INTO what I say/ cuz GAUGED a league with bars in the pool/ so why they got this tadpole in the lake/ mighty morph wanna take a leap at heat so this frog gets cooked from this power toolwith a beam/ trying to see me dog but I'll cook this cat and roast his rap Giving him hit after hit like an old G in the '70s, cuz he must've hit the white lines before he write lines/ like he SET-A-DATED HEAVILY/ so I'll rock this zeppelin with the led pen so he can take the stairway to heaven then/ cuz he's just #2 in this battle and my pens-killed the best Pen skilled best Pen's KILLED best