You listed every fuckin’ bug like a horny-ass lab tech, But I’m the surgeon with a bonesaw, crackin’ your back next. You called me infected? Bitch, your dick got mildew, I’ll thrust a knife in your spine and twist ’til it kills you. You named fifty STDs? Here’s fifty-two stab wounds, Wrap your lips ‘round a bullet and sing me your sad tune. Your bars full of fungus, your throat’s a petri tray, I’ll tie your tongue to a brick, twist ’til it rip then list it on eBay. Your girl’s legs got barnacles, grip like a suction cup, Every time she queefs it sound like rubber gloves bustin’ up. You “the doctor of diss”? Nah, you a janitor’s rash, Wipin’ down toilets with your dreams in the trash. You bake bread? I bake heads oven set to “inferno,” Watch through the glass as it explodes like a Redenbacher kernel. I pulled your chart, said: “delusional dumb slut,” With maggots in your gallbladder and dick in your guts. You ever been choked with your own intestines? I’ll do it in a Snuggie while eatin’ your mom’s blue waffle for breakfast. Your girl’s panties look like they been boiled in broth, With Baby Ruth and rocky road, I had to call in Sloth. She caught “garden-gnosis” or whatever you said But I caught her on camera, givin’ your boyfriend head. You herpes-ass gremlin, lil’ wart-sprayin’ mutt, You sound like the type that’d rather take pipe up the butt You on the drip? I’m the nurse steppin’ on your IV, Then pissin’ in the bag while you havin’ pipe dreams. I’ll wrap your face in gauze laced with anthrax flakes, Leave your jaw hangin’ open like your mother on fluffer breaks. Your rhymes? 90% pus, 10% bum warts, I push a scalpel down your throat leavin’ your tongue forked. You bleedin’ out fast, need a priest and a prayer, But you’re too busy flossin’ with your own pubic hair. Put your boyfriend in a blender, call it “herpes surprise, Then use his head as a bowling ball, by inserting my fingers in both his eyes You spit clinic-core, I spit morgue and a curse, You caught chlamydia twice just from readin’ this verse. I’m the borreliosis in your IV, I’m the scoliosis in your spine, Your crew? Just a conga line of leaky behinds. You don’t battle you’re a bitch with dike spikes, I’ll staple your gums shut just to stop you from deep throatin’ the mic. Your heart rate’s low, your brain’s on mute, You rap like you do butt stuff at band camp with an organ flute. Your fanbase smells like Fritos and grease, With a hint of your sister’s discharge on the seats. I’m a rap battle warlord your weak disses I can’t even feel, I’ll pull your face through your ass like a biological wheel. I keep a chainsaw beside me in case you act brave, Then slice your verses to pieces like deli meat thinly shaved. You a symptom, I’m a syndrome that eats flesh till there’s nothin’ left, I’ll tattoo “loser” on your nuts with a razor dipped in meth. You still talkin’ viral? I’m buildin’ a morgue, Turn your limbs to a puzzle, now your mom’s doin’ the chore. You the STD mascot, got a rash on your soul, Your blood type’s discharge and your dick’s on parole. You got HPV, HIV, ABC who knows, Your girl’s discharge hits walls like Mentos dropped in Coke. Every line that you spit got fevers and rashes, I came to cremate your legacy and piss on the ashes. You think this a joke? I brought bodybags plural, You’re the type of bitch to sit when you take a piss instead of using a urinal. So next time you test me, bring meds in your purse I’m the plague with the punchlines, and this last verse is your hearse.
