I run laps on the track, smack backs like Thiago Silva,
the mean, murderous Mauler stepped in to drill ya,
and now he's coming for Bones and he's a way better striker,
but how many times do I have to tell you, styles make fights so,
unless he can learn to deal with the wrestling,
back to the middle of the division he's headed in,
Vitor's no slouch, he's not there to fufck around,
I hope he knocks out Bones and leaves him on the ground,
Like Machida after he got standing guillotined,
That was a cold thing to say Greg, "go get some fans", are you kidding me?
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If you aint a friend of me
then you're an enemy
Girls dig me more than they dig Bill Bellamy.
I kick rhymes like my boi Jin and spit fire the way he did against Professor Green.
N****s can't fade me
chrome socks beaming, through my peripheral I see ya scheming
stop dreamin', I leave ya body steaming
n****s is feening, what's the meaning
I'm leaning on any n***a intervening with the sound of my money machine-in
Marcus Aurelius: Tell me again, Maximus, why are we here?
Maximus: For the glory of the Empire, sire.
Baked, not fried... the healthy choice.