Die Slow (ROF Diss)

[Chorus]
You ain't big bad
You don't run shit
Round here
You get no respect
You ain't gangster
You don't run this
Cause round here
It's on your named we piss
You fucking bitchmade

[Verse 1]
Your a disgrace to the birth place of hip-hop
Me?
I've built a name at a pace that just won't stop
Southern n***a, leave you crippled
I will hit you like a sickle
Finish you, merc you on the triple
When I'm done you get hung by your tongue
With no response
Did it once, do it twice and for the fun
You need more appeal
Three years, still telling n***as pop a pain pill
I'll kill that, monotone style
Rip it out from ya mouth
Show how we fucking ride in the south
On this NY joint, with cha NY lingo
So you know, i'm with n***as
That'll pop you, like a can of fucking pringos
Bow down to the king
You don't run a fucking thing
Feel my reign and my wrath
I'm a titan when I clash
I been exposed your past
I've chosen your path
Go on n***a, try to rap so I can laugh

[Verse 2]
Dont you know what we do?
Down in the south, we fucking hunt racoons
But you like what? 3 foot 6?
Perfect waste of a 6 foot ditch
You ain't worth the kill
You ain't worth my skills
You ain't real
You "G'd" up wit them HMO 2 dollar frames
In that polo shirt game
Like a jersey shore lame
With that chinny chin strap
Macy grey sounding raps
Got you n***as on the brink
Whatchu think
With these flames, got you begging for a drink
Non stop with the assault
Won't stop till I dissolve em all like salt
Ima, give em no rest, drillin flow up in they chest
Keep em vexed at the def, motha fuck ROF
The definition on mission for position
Obliterating these bitches
Listen
My opposition ain't no competition
My levels of intuition risen
I'm fixin to merc ya mother fucking repetition