It’s The Observer here, oh I’m sorry, am I interrupting?
I will never rest, with these disses, you’ll be corrupting
I don’t Noah how you kids think your rhymes are effective
Your defective little minds can’t handle my lyrics so hectic
Happy Birthday to you! and good luck in the afterlife
Because while I attack your mind, you attack with little knives
This transmission is complete, just like your lives, I’m done
Because you little bitches just lost to proxy #1