Ragnarok is a fucking story, just like everything you rap for your glory,
Fact is you're non-stop spitting lies so don't come forth and bore me with that 'you're a liar' high-horse shit, you should be more than sorry,
That line there was 2-in-1 like your Hammer pun, guess a rapper that whack's your category.
You gon' run round proud, you better worry, get on your knees and yes it's time that you adore me,
Changing your description 3 times during this battle's a good idea, in fact it's mandatory,
'Cause if you wanna avoid a good roast from Mad, it aint a bad idea to keep empty your inventory,
So go to sleep, dear, do not worry, I'll see you in hell, God knows I might as well skip purgatory.
Think you're good but that's 'cause all before me were weak opponents; to think they're my level's derogatory,
You beat them, sure, well a 2-2 win-loss record aint much to flash but at least for you ego it's compensatory,
Thing is you try to correct my grammar with lines like 'bitch you was in the chair', beta male up in my territory,
If I am in the chair then you better get prepared 'cause the smoke from my bars rises high; stand up to me, death's respiratory.
Stones crumbling, you're stumbling over your own syllables, internal rhyming's clearly a myth to you; dear Thor,
Probably slammed that keyboard while you're hammered, that explains why every single use of metaphor was poor,
I aint stammering, I'm clamouring the mountain to victory, you're miles beneath for all I know you fell to the floor,
I can't tell whether to laughably congratulate you on writing something so boring it would fail excite a nympho whore.
Since this is the final Round I'll add a fifth stanza, 'cause when I rap more it's a real bonanza,
When you rap more it's like a failed pornstar with her tits-out, still getting ignored, grabbing a camera,
You think you're MC Hammer, I'm a Tech N9ne fan, sir, I'm a mighty lion; you're at most a panther,
I got the mane, I fuck up the game and your doctor's 'bout to ring you up; it's an incurable strain o' cancer.