I’m on my lyrical hustle,
caught up in the bustle,
of the show,
combatant with my flow,
that sends shivers down your spine,
I shoot my haters down,
left for dead, 
Columbine.
I come at you,
with everything I got,
put your poetic fists up,
clench your muscles,
taut.
I will battle it out,
going hard swinging,
you will fall down,
on your back,
got the fat lady singing.
I have that fiery furnace flow,
smelting iron a glow,
Yall niggas are praying for them to turn down the heat,
Shadrach, Meshach, and Obednigo.
Yall niggas are chaff in the wind,
blow.
My mind is strong like steel,
Coming for you niggas belongings like the hamburgler,
This isn’t a happy meal,
Bout to feast off the hate the spew,
I’ll chomp on you like tobacco,
Spit that mess out,
Chew.
No matter what you say or do,
I will be on top,
Right over you.