"Oi, listen 'ere ya worthless wanker, Hin, ya got the skills of a limp noodle tryin' to rap with a mouth full of mashed potatoes ya bloody tosspot. I mean, I ain't one to give a toss 'bout someone's disses, but when it comes to you, I can't even be arsed to care 'bout ya lackluster tracks. And don't even get me started on that sorry excuse of a song ya call "Pinany", ya gin-swillin', beat-challenged mess of a rapper. I swear, the only thing slower than ya rhymes is ya brain, ya numpty. And let's not even talk 'bout ya sad excuse for melody, it's like listenin' to a cat gettin' its tail pulled while tryin' to hold a tune. Face it love, ya rap skills couldn't keep up with a bloody snail, ya bloody worthless Packgod wanna-be."