"Hey Packgod, your rhymes sound all fake But I'll still roast you like my momma's steak You think you're so tough, talking 'bout bombs and war But honestly, you're just a little Arab bore Your name might be Packgod, but you ain't no pack leader You're just a wimpy little fella, like a deflated balloon feeder All you do is talk about bombing and destruction But we all know you couldn't hurt a fly, you little construction Go back to your sand dunes and play with your toys Leave the real rhyming to the big boys You're just a wannabe tough guy, trying to act hard But let's be real, you couldn't even handle a playing card So get out of here with your lame rhymes and fake threats You're just a tiny little insect, no need to fret Packgod? More like Packfraud, you're nothing but a sham Now go run home to your mommy, you little Arab bomber ham!"