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You think you're ready for more,
My rhymes are fire, yours are just a bore,
In the dojo of rap, I'm the one you adore,
But your skills are lacking, you're walking out the door.
Now it's your turn, can you come up with something tight?
Or will you fold under pressure, and take flight?
Remember, three sick bars, that's what I'm looking for,
If you can't deliver, then you're walking out the door. 0 reply
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