Your style can't compare to my style
I'm just ahead of you by miles and miles
Your technique is timid, mild
I'm hot tempered like Hataru, child..

My inferno start wildfires in your forests
In a chorale, I'm the chorus
I speak Achaean fluently, don't need no thesaurus.
I'm up above the clouds, you low like morass.

Speaking of morass, where the ladies at?
Ones with class, with no shady act.
Y'all so crazy, like a Chaos Pact.
Can't distinguish between fiction and fact.

When I lock you, it's immaculate.
Paralysed, impatient, asthmatic,
Weary, slick, anorexic.
You can't do shit.

My style totally reckless.
My lash wrapped around you like a necklace.
My voyria behead will leave you neckless.
One more bounty off my checklist.

Your style like a dysfunction.
Sucks a lot, like adduction.
You wouldn't want to meet me at this junction,
North of New Thera, the place of your expunction.

Now it's out, you can't refute,
My style and how I execute.
You wish you had style like me,
and the looks to boot.

Penned by my hand on the 2nd of Aeguary, in the year 759 AF.