before I let loose
with this ruthless aggression
I'll let you be the second
fat woman hearing my confession
I admit it
I did what I had to do to win
I'm an athlete
you're a specimen of sin
with your drinking
and smoking
and choking down food
I know French dudes
with better manners than you
so swing batter batter
show me what a fatter rapper can do
I beat cancer
I can sure as hell crack you
You lived strong
beat cancer
congratulations
now I'll drop your ass faster
than your own foundation
third base with an Olsen twin
that's the sin face it
she's just a little girl
what'd you give her a bracelet?
the whole nation knows
you ride too tight in the crotch
you're as boring as your
Tour De France is to watch
so come on little buddy
don't look so pissed
with all that blood and attitude
you're like a menstrual cyclist
you set records
before black men could compete
are you kidding me?
that's like having a pasta contest
without Italy
you're an orphan who found his way
to fortune and fame
just think what you could've done
if you would've actually trained
I'm the pinnacle of physical condition
while you dip your stick in prostitutes
and call it foul tippin
are you trippin?
you'll be nothing but a skeleton
messing with the fellow in yellow
who will be pedaling
like hell up in the peloton
It's the bottom of the ninth
against the Texan in a bathing suit
filled with more artificial ingredients
than a Baby Ruth
it may be way too soon
but I'm calling my shot
and I'm not talking about
those Italian syringes you brought
the Sultan of Swat will knock you
right outta the park
and round the bases to the sound
of uproaring applause
while you hang your head in shame
and disgrace because
you got lost and forgot
what real sportsmanship was
you look tired kid
you got Sheryl crows feet eyes
pedal home to France
and maybe bring me back some fries
cause if you step to Ruth on the mic
I'll fan your fancy bike and all
yerrr out
with three strikes
and just one ball
who won?
who's next?
you decide