What’s this, little contest ‘mongst wankers?

I’m game, gonna gas y’all ****es straight down them graveditches

Let’s take this boat afloat, haul ‘em anchors

My rhymes’ made of strange mixtures, erasin’ your fixtures

None of you got what it takes, to be master

Of playin’ with words, en mbume goin’ wigger

**** goes down, faces shoved in the end of my linguistic blaster

Heads explode on fat turds, as i pull the trigger

Left confused is the stupid, unsure of what’s just seen

When brought together by Cupid, me and my new peen