Written by: Arcene Janvier

As hard as it seem,  
My verse reign supreme,
Myself and I, am the illest,
My flow is the sickest,
I spit hot-lava fire,
Never think of retire,
Hell-bent to succeed,
Haters call me demon seed,
But their opinions don't matter,
I'm too far up the ladder,
Like french-fries I fry 'em,
Sixteen bars I eat 'em,
Fools run from this storm,
I'm a lyrical god in human form,
After me there'll be none,
'Cause I kill 'em one-by-one!