Straight dopeness like..eeeh...peanuts? mjoo men visst..Guess who's here?!?Unskilled rappers it's game overlike when you owe money to 50 guysin Range Rovers,armed with flamethrowersI hate your every verseCall me cynical or a grim bastardbut when I looked on the bright side off lifeI got SKINN-CANCER!!!I saw your lyricyou should be glad someone even read it..If your lines are sweet,i'm a diabeticWell enough about youMy lyrics hurt like gettin your balls runover by a dirtbike I got no jocks body,wouldn't call it fitbut when you get naked it's a comic stripI don' rap for profit,girly rappers can't top thisyou wouldn't get close to maleeven if you worked at a post officeI wrote this just to prove how wack you areThis aint rap this is FUBARI master the artoff crashin your barsI'm not rappin for chartscause there's only bastards in chargeoff the music business tryin to please their retarded listenersIt's disgustin like fistfuckinwith Captan Hook,but who gives a damn?I drop a verse and leave wack rappers shook!säg vad ni tycker!