Look, this cat Ronin should know by now that I don't play games
So fly, I don't need a stage, I rock astral planes
Strangle the air from ya lungs, you'll never feel the noose loosen
Set up Ronin to collapse worse than Retief Goosen
I spend time spittin' tighter than the space between Fifty Cent’s molars
You prob'ly stay home, watch Michael Jackson videos and get a boner
Leave ya holed up in a church, with nothin’ but a Catholic priest
And have him bury ya body and comfort ya family when you’re deceased
Style of speech, you don't preach smilies and metaphors
Pimpin’ ya words, you spit pussylies and meta-whores
Xtadas will never stop like OJ in '94
Biggie-type, fuck ya bitch raw, kickin' in your fucking door
You heard of me? Then you ain’t even got half the story
Denzel Washington couldn’t come close to shining with X’s glory
Ronin ain't hard, no jail time, you'd get raped in penitentiaries
Only way you'd get READ RIGHTS is if you penned ya rhymes in BURGUNDY INK
Fuck swiss cheese, you getting torn down like the Berlin Wall
With no advance warning of ya fall/Xtadas is the BLUEPRINT for spitting a verse
So if you wanted to defeat me, you'd have to KILL ME FIRST
You gettin' stuck in my lyrical quagmire
Ain't my fault, Ronin's bout to lose like the Chicago Children's Choir (http://www.allhiphop.com/hiphopnews/?ID=4522)
And whose fault is that?/I'll hyperextend my raps
And you still couldn't reach out and touch that...
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