Your Purse

The bag, your purse, this ain't my first rehearsal

Been done bagged your verse don't take it personal

Bagged up crack, advertised on TV commercials

Go back, discount your vocab like Target Circle

What's yours is mine and my minds maligned

So my lines designed to redefine divine

Your assigned rhymes misaligned

Suffer signs of supine, unlimited supply

Of administered lies, I minister

Your life, Mr. Sinister when I write, finish you

With a slight, twist of the wrist anytime

On a Mic... Jake Paul, better be ready to fight

When I see you onsite, Iron Mike fixin

To bite, your bag sitting a little bit light

My bad, you simp in disguise, I'll thinly slice

Skin from your replies like Khloe Kardashian thighs

 

I will break your fucking collar bone

Dollars gone, Agatha did it all along

The acumens accurate, action

Is immaculate, the definition of classic

An exhibition for a Master... Bruce Lee Wing Chun

Slice open a loose leaf, best of breed Lord of the Rings

Rotating hotter than Lil Wayne 500 degrees

Porn fiend born King home court horned being

Who walks to the beat of his own drum, lonesome

On one, sharp tongue go dumb

Full-time Shogun, focused

Magnum Opus, flow ferocious

Like Mufasa's roar, my flow built proper

No missing parts... In a cave, Tony Stark

You playing the role of little brother Scar

When I spit from the heart feel like hyenas tearing you apart