There are Superstitious opponents 'bout to fall.
Just like your Glaucoma, you can't see that at all.
Pit played the woogie; and it sparked your curiosity,
But you only earned a four pay, what an atrocity.
You’re playing in Orlando, I feel sorry for the locals.
Following Brownie brought influences in your vocals.
Your pinnacled success was short-lived, what’d I say?
None of your songs are played, even to this very day.
Love is a special word, and I use it when I beat you;
Shake your tail feathers, and fail your career debut.
Your “Little” name in Motown misleads the world.
Put down that cake of yours, give exercise a whirl.
Can you smell the aroma of defeat, or even taste it?
I'll Deliver your Sealed lose. Signed and all, just face it.
I’ll smash that Musiquarium, make you struggle for air.
Bieber is better than you. So KISS My Ass, I don’t care.
You Will Know that You Met Your Match in this fight.
All I Do is beat you. You’re left Cryin’ Through the Night.
No one can see you victory, for it is Blowin’ in the Wind.
Can you see the chance to win? Nope, you’re Blind.
Don’t You Cry when I beat you, anyone but you can see.
You throw those Sticks and Stones, but you can’t touch me.
I Can’t Stop defeating You; and Yesterday, you got PWNED.
Now that we’re Together Again, how ‘bout we go get stoned?