Back atcha:

What - you think it's empirical?
the way you try to upstage my supersonic lyrical
endeavors that make it it unequivocal
that there's no match for this hard-rhymin Cannibal, raisin the ante on that candy-a$$ Hannibal

Give me a Belgian, I'll eat that sucka like frites
my slipstream alone'll shave ya legs, you ain't go'n need no Neet
find me a Big Wheel, I'll take that $hit to the street
mowin down fake domestiques like they sucka bo petes

Tighty whitey man? Jock-rockin fool may as well go eat shredded wheat
Casper outfit-wearin sucka best step aside from the heat
I be generatin when my rubba hits the pavement
'cause "Where'd he go?" is all they'll be sayin 'bout this gent...