Back, one more time, to finish the kill

Yo, Cheins, glad to see you. I need a refill.

And you can tell the waitress to bring the bill.

Your rhymes are lame, and I’ve had my fill.

You’re putting me to sleep just like Nyquil.

You flow like garbage and can’t seem to diss.

You should probably see a doctor for your obsession with ****.

Now let’s talk about the Doldoes,

That **** was over a while ago.

In this rap battle you don’t belong.

You’re the bastard son of Cheech and Chong.