[Qualm Verse 1:]
One verse shot should settle the score
You mad because my whack and my rap is better than yours
See a light from a different angle
You see a bitch is going to be a bitch you can't turn a pigeon to an angel
But god is at least is going to snap
But you don't put in work with brand new shirts and jeans for machine packs
And all of us is trying to eat
If you are trying better about cheddar you better leave a message behind the beat
None of you many should thou contest
I betcha were thinking a few hot singles album success
I have a million ways to kill a verse
And it's Andromeda's deep, fuck beef I have a million ways to build a hearse
Fuck you know better than Qualm
Say if you want beef put it on the streets you wanted to get on a song
My advice to you is to get in the crowd
So when I spit sixteen duck in the middle and crouch

[Knowledge Hook: X2]
Yo it's game time there's no competition
So we kick it but they hate mine
Compositions for the limit
Because they hate to fly
There just some motherfucking pigeons
So I aim high until they met the fucking limit

[Lord Lhus Verse 2:]
We back at it with a fist part too
The hit squad crew whose walking the whom
All I hear is garbage record label the side of the army
Who started the motherfucker the place within the margin
Now that's my target hip-hop repping the snowgoons
The undergrounds you know don't tell me there ain't no room
To make loot to make room or to move back
Before we come out the back, bats brewing cats
Swing bat ta homie we take it in our head
You heard me what I said, best believe me breaking bread
Gimme that, don't be hard don't force that
All my fans reppin' hard for me in Joylands
Switch too, we got Goons around the world ready to bust, change the spits crew
Homie they don't even rat me out and bust ya, you want a broom
I don't care if I offend you
I can say what I want and do what I do

[Knowledge Hook 2: X2]
Yo It's game time there's no competition
So we kick it but they hat mine
Compositions for the limit
Because they hate to fly
There just some motherfucking pigeons
So I aim high until they met the motherfucking limit

[Knowledge Verse 3:]
There's a whole lot coming from outside you can't run from it
You better confront it before things are coming
Hit you in the head with my stomache before you bleed fuck it
You're about to doubt about the streets cousin
All of a sudden, I got a show blow of bastards hell of a hand basket
While I focus on the madness for disaster
While I handle the rampage close your casket
Leave your store of brews and bastings
Forty out sweep guzzlin' just drying your pain
When we ain't got nothing to lose man you could lose your brain
You said it was sanely insane
I guess the grey blood was all in your veins
So the competition was so lame
To throw bread it ain't the same
Without a hockey mask in a cage
Friday the 13TH it all been played
Blood smells like bloodline when you called my name