I'm the worst rapper yo..
How the worst rapper is the most hated tho?
Whatever...

Agh
Vic Spencer: the worst rapper from Chicago
They want me out the city as far as the chi-go
But im out here posted on dangerous blocks
With n***as that miss school and love slangin' the Glock
Agh
Changing the plot, rearranging the flock
The circle has changed, now i get to aim at the box
Agh
This is World War Ten, i got bombs for ya'
See it in ya' video lookin' like Tom Sawyer (haha!)
Look how i came out the dirt and emerged
To be one of the greatest to ever do it without leaving the curb
Seein' chicks curve n***as, and end up crashing
Seein' one opinion turn the whole earth to bat-shit
N***as that once knew me call me an angry uncle
I'm lookin' at these n***as like "what the world has come to?"
(ugh?)
Very passionate about who I'm rappin' with
So all of this loyal shit, I ain't havin' it
Agh
Bumping freight by Amy
Nothing changed me except for death
But either way, I'll die the same
So many times I could've hide the pain
But you hear it in my voice every time i rhyme again
Sittin' in the jewish restaurant with Dr. Mind Bender
And he from Belize blowin' weed, look what time get ya'
Me and my wife havin' a hard-time finding babysitters
Argument everyday, look what time get ya' (agh)
Fixin' the plot, i've been liftin' a lot
Not the waste acquiesce when I'm skippin' your block
In 98' we was sippin' ciroc, before the manufacture
I seen n***as come n' go, look what life got ya'
Bars sound like I should never sit behind 'em
Spit a couple lines at 'em then they blind faster
Sometimes the mind matter if you fuck with me
But you point the finger at the wrong guy in the truck with weed
Posted in that bitch smokin' out the backseat
No fucks to them rappers out here showing ass-cheecks (ew!)
Rafe ceiling lights in the tahoe
I'm safe in the hood over downtown Chicago
See some protesters, I don't fuck with that shit
I be killin' the role, petal wall stroll with the kicks
Ten years ago, at the taste in the see-thrus
Got me some pussy off wearin' then 350 V2s
(agh)
I ain't in to that lifestyle, I write wild
Tazmanian devil how I react now
The microphone I can hug on the spot
Appreciate all the love that I got, muhfucker
(oooh!)
That's it... no more
Lyrical exercise
Death out of VI, right?