7th St. Entry Atmosphere

[Slug]
Now see, maybe if your tag was dope
I'd actually lend a little credibility to your statements
But honestly, your penmanship's fucked
The way I see it, someone should at least slap you for even holding a marker

I hope the kid who wrote my name in the entry bathroom
Has the nuts and time for us to sit and chat soon
So I can ask 'em "Why the fuck am I on your mind bitch?"
You could've signed it, but stayed silent cause you're spineless
If you was a man, you'd come at me on the mic level
But you're light yellow just like the walls on which you write fellow
When I first viewed it, I'll admit it had me quite pissed
But now I've accepted it, in fact I kind of like this
I really wish I knew your identity
Probably not even an emcee, just another who pretends to be
Or maybe the jealousy of one who's baby-baby has eyes for me
It's nineteen-ninety-sev', nothing surprises me
Envy can make a motherfucker immature
So can boredom, a buzz or the curse of being insecure
C'mon now, some little trick with a marker and a chip
On his shoulder don't mean shit, I want the world in my grip
I bet your girl's on my dick, she digs the skills
She's a bigger head than you, so give me head and head for the hills
Little bitch, donkey dick sucking ass-fuck
Glue sniffing, half a testicle base head selling plasma
Publicity, good or bad, the same to an emcee
I think I found your limits to fame over on Seventh Street
I dedicate my name to those who view me as an enemy
And I'mma mark the planet for every mark in the entry