Cme up with a bruise nah im too used to it,
Gots skin like a snake i shed it off n move thru it,
U aint no criminal, just a boy whos on whimsical,
Mystical rhymes leave u borderline clinical,
If u got metal, then its the braces on ur teeth,
N Im sekkling with a tackle sure enough to rot those teeth,
Ur minimal to me, minor, at th worst ur a thief,
I keep steppin up game make ur rep look like a priests,
Im too motivated i have u back pedalling swiftly,
Cock back quickly, its th name tht make u fear me,
Not th hammer n the pin thts ready to blow,
Ur a sham makin a din, al steadily remove all above ur nose,
So dont, even try it boy this aint ur fam but a foe,
Cold slewing prose in a way i recite not spit flows,
Although u think im chatting its u whos talking 'snails',
I know ur type, hoodies up so as to stop u lookin pale,
When u spit u better watch whos hustle it is tht ur knocking,
Ima C.E.O of rap, pro rustling up ur pockets,
Its petty but revenge is always sweet when we meet,
So stay laying bars cocky ad still drop u on a street

bless
x

*Dont fuck about, trust! Girl Got Game*