Out of the game after that train wreck I see the reason
Your rhymes show you are no good in any season
And you can name a million names and claim that's who you are
But it won't change the fact you s**k when you go to write a bar
I don't have terrors be it day or night
And fog smog or smoke won't block out my light
You speak of graveyards and those you have buried
Now tell me about all the purses you've carried
You have a chihuahua and claim your not queer
But you got a small dog so finally you could domineer
Make amends I think you have lost your mind
I don't retract truths no matter if you find them unkind
As for my balls quit looking I don't need your approval on their weight
You just get in line and make it straight
The only ones referring to yardstick and rulers
Are those Johnson gazing and proven droolers
When phallic symbols began to fail
You talk of guns and clips but I know that smell
All those words no matter how you bark it
Smell just like a sour thing that smells like a fish market