-------THE PROVING GROUNDS--------
this is a keystyle session. i will judge the emcee who comes the hardest and makes heads bang. pick up your rhyme from the last line of the last emcee. i'll only flow once to set it off.....
my sound waves penetrate// and make earthquakes when the sub-wuffer vibrates//
the beat brakes and i anniahilate the fake// those who are light weights born without the emcee trait//make them hibernate, like in winter//but this december i'm loosing my temper//call me an advenger// cause ounce i'm in the center// all the men-were, throwin whit flags 'i surrender!'//but just cause your in the hip hop section//in a keystyle session//dont mean your an emcee makin connections//and just cause your behind a screen, dont mean you got protection........
"do yall believe"
"its hades da god"
i dip down black cloaked/ in the mist of the smoke/ incript in now hades explicit lyrics now in cloak/ expectations all exceeding/ wack mc's of their pressure i'm relieving/ when one glare of my eye dropped to their knees and cease breathing/ yall muthaphuckas recognize/ i'm like jordan in his prime/but yet indiferent because i drop jewels instead of dimes/ same difference/ i'll leave you bedridden head trippin on why you tried us/ any chemical cure is forbidden for this virus/ yall mc's need baking soda for fast preservation/ the waitings over hades caught you read handed indulging in masturbation/ flows taken in ratons/ by all consumers/ though in every aspect always been a late bloomer/stress the usage of humor/ some of yall cats need to lighten the fuck up/ this in fact maybe a lyrical masage/ are you relieved/ do u belive in hades the god
Ah...take that deep breath while i provide the relieving type fealing/Satisfaction must be the reaction when they view my fashion/My selection of perfection has got me reserecting styles that have been elected/Presidents over exercists who spin thier heads and spit false promises/And guarentees that make you believe that you can concieve/Anything and everything quite easily like calling 1-900-low self esteem/It's all fluxuation like the illusions im creating for losers masturbation/Got them beleiving they are seeing pamela lee mentally with full fruntal nudity/Their thoughts travel loosely down paths that aren't properly reproducing/They are just confusing your mind all the time like consuming too much moonshine and snorting 3 lines/Sorry if im not offending and I dont spit insults that are personally offending/But I can be that and make you see that,a threat is only a deep as an emcee who can truly mean that/You make personal attacks when your knowledge lacks about myself and what I have/So I spit my reply just to make you realize actions speak louder than words,you herb/So stop spitting those 4 letter monosylobolic verbs/That have about as much strength as melting ice burgs/I never spit slurred becuase it blurrs my futuristic goal/Which is for all of you to hear my story told...
A cypher without Disturbance is simply nothing./ Nudging in, strictly on emcees I'm puffin./ Not bluffin, no need to pretend I won't get victory./ Smoke you like hickory, no deception or trickery./ How you figure thee lyrics you write will enlighten me./ More like frighten me, to think a cat could write that wack./ Get snapped back and put in place like lockers and backpacks./ It's a fact that I always come with dope rhymes./ You can't cope, I'm ready to hang emcees like rope lines./ Your hope dies when you see that I'm your opposition./ No competition, I win with lyrics that stop your vision./ Shining so bright they blind like direct sun rays./ To end with your fun days cause only one stays./ And I'm not leaving, just stopping your breathing./ I'm throwing bombs and hip-hop is receiving.
..."Gotta shit quick":
Hershey squirts get squeezd out, then plummits
I flush it
Re-route it down the toilet b4 the next man vomits
I've been muching hummus with onions so my stagnant shit gets pungant
Shit...as long as I'm sittin shittin, I'm gonna buff my bunyons!
Kick "stool raps" like I was Diamond Shell's cuzin
You thought I wasn't?
Festering stench so buddy rich, got all the fly buzzards buzzin
I Deliver, Flows More Deadly Then Digested Quicksilver/
I'm Like Fever, And I'm Stopping Your Shit Like A Thermometer In Your Anal/
Your TABLE Of Content Is Used More Then A Single Gay With The Only Furnature:A Table/
I'm ILLer, Then A Christian Without Rafael's Protection/
Y'all SERVE(r) More LINES With A Connection, Then You Do Real Life Production/
I Don't Like Keystyles, So I'm Gonna End With-This/
No..Wait, I Can't Cause I Gotta Go SHIT-QUICK/@&(#%=
cuttin' your chest open with blocks of silver.
bout ready to serve you raw like that pig Wilbur... from Charlottes Web but he stayed alive... though your weak ass gets honey glazed then steak-knived... i take five minutes of your begging before tweaking... got you so spirited with fear i can't understand what language you speaking... man this is freaky, you got the holy ghost now speaking tongues... hear ya moms echo in the background "ma'am please don't take my son"... too late... i'm done... now it's time for my cannibalistic feeding... hang you upside down... drip, drip, drip (i like slow bleeding)... cut off genitalia for de-seeding and open wombs for abortions... all with my hand and no tools so i can feel every bodily contortion... graciously awaiting the absorption of fine spices and chemical mixtures... then unscrew your head from your neck like light bulbs from fixtures... can you picture?? all these things happening in this time... and what's more beautiful is: all these things happen in my rhyme.... it's a fine line between Rahh's world and protection and nurturing... but it's a mirror image to me when i think of LOVING and MURDERING........
casket call....herding more emcees then a cattle call, honey...are you bleeding all over, 40 wounds in the front and then turn you over, "Come please Jahova," hold up your death it isn't over, murder longer then a 7 inninng strech, relax here take these there prozac, mixed murcury with simalac, only your head is not felt cause its in a nap sack, your jockin' my nuts so bad you got two extra nut sacs, cats left like carbon dated artifacts, blooded spilled in the milk, face on the carton and your shroud made with silk, Hello Captin Kurt....Will...you...defeat....me, hell yeah i'll take your throat, stuff it down your lungs to make your chest float, and send it down the Miss. River, cuttin' your chest open with blocks of silver.
I Got More Hands Than Infinite Octupuses That's Why I Can't Me DeFEET) Lyrical Arsenal With The Lowest Form Of Weapon A Nuc In My Ferocious Fleet) Giving My Balls To Courteney Cox) And Semen FRIENDS In Her Mouth Box) Im So Ahead Of My Time A Prediction Seems Nos-talga) Chunking Lyrical Balls To Cats To Ball-Ya) Whenever I Go To A Shrink I See Lyrics In Ink Blotches) Bottom Of My Lines Are Still Top Notches) Your Lower Than An Atlantis Blow Job To Mini-Me) A Phenonmenon Prophets Didn't Even See) Pulverising Pulsating Plus Tectonic Plating) I Love No Hating) Like Nike Playing Chess Im CheckMating) You Puny Pawns Don't Deserve To Be On The Board) Can't Take Off But Still Claiming You Soared) Castrate And Play Organ Basketball) Diminishing ANd Finshing All Of Ya'll Till My Casket Call)
“Blah. Blah. Blah, but my shit comes with a catch like New York City Jamaicans.”
While you write what Real have forsaken, I awaken, unshaken, and leave sheets aching. Making masses feel fake and taking notice of how eloquently certain shadows wrote their decimation. Displacing letters across blank slates and vowing to stay a contradiction, the vexed and complacent homosapien. Blasphemy to me is erasing. With a snide grin on, I face men. Let it be known . . . . . . . . . . there’s no replacement.
Why talk loud if you aren’t saying anything?
My musical influence is borderline maddening, shattering the limitations of battling while preserving the foundation of this art that’s dubbed rapping. Contribute? Gladly. I’m radically reinforcing mind focus. Genetic mapping has showed this to be other worldly flowed shit. Dub these bogus, and redefine antonym. I’ve revamped platinum, trapped elements, and scrapped them. Constantly adapting, to ever changing politics. Volatile and shit, I’m eons beyond this manuscript. Finished before I started this, I’ve begun my next project. I bring of barrage of lit. My pen pulls the sharpest tricks. The knowledge I play with is no mirage, it’s made thick. It’s fucking flagrant how I’ve gave this thought and reshaped wit, from basic to next level type described played withs. Present perfect on futuristically heard shit. Absurd lips pronounce words with blurred quicks. I’ve got nerve, and inferred it’s awkward, at best, to slur the alias of this stirred Kid, storing dirt in it’s chest. With commanding, yet enchanting, grand things, I succumb to no man standing. Pen to hand from mental planning. Disbanding through glandings, reprimanding the ideologically dim. I rewrite line’s as I rant on whim, vandalizing like I’m graffing this, hip-hop philanthropist. I don’t consider this practicing. No need for proof . . . . . . I’ma mother fucking Champion.
[Carry on from, Carry on.]
DOPE BUT CHECK THIS
When the tomb hits that's when wack mcz get played real quickly/I move so fast on micz even Onyx has said Sub Zero's shifty/about fifty wack mcz and only 2 dope standing/these kids go from champs 2 losers quicker than Ed O' Bannon/Demanding the space and time isn't a proper answer/when i inject mad cow disease into hamburgers of Brittany spears dancers/I'm walking around with freestyles so free i yell innocent bystanders "Here take this"/but my shit comes with a catch like New York City Jamicans/(selling shit)
Coat the wound/ assume position as corpse as Cypher presumes/ exert thirty rounds of vicious head knocks with key-ed raps/ Smakin kids punchin lips in facials swell like Body By Jake Abs/ off da head like Toup`e while I stick sproutins arts like Rogaine/ Crack keyboards where the Monitor squints excruciatin Pain/ bomb the whole fuckin mainframe/Automaticially with hostility so askin where the beef came is no Rhetorical question/ while off da mic keystyles come harder than a Horse's erection/ oppposition always walk the OPPOSITE direction/ servin mild concussions while mediocre minds boggled by the word play...its too compexin/ sevin mics platter dickin dykes fuck the pussy shit/off Back can I rip on a keystyle is like auto-fire when MJ J.Curl got a sparked hit/ so clap clap cause acrobatics is minor finger movements/ while other cake but be still move-less when they TOMB- HITS/
INSIDE A BEAT IZ WHERE WACK MCZ DON'T EVEN GET CLOSE WITH A BOMB TIED AROUND THEY THROAT/I WALK AROUND COLUMBINE HIGH SCREAMING "HEY LOOK AT TRENCH LEATHER COAT/AND I'M A SICK LUNATIC THAT SHOULD'VE NEVER BEEN LET OUT OF LYRICAL JAIL/I WAS ON DEATH ROW SCREAMING FUCK A PASTOR I'M HEADING 4 LYRICAL HELL/AND MY SPONTANEOUS COMBUSTION ALLOWS ME 2 RECREATE MY IMAGE TWICE/I'M HARDLY NICE/I'M MEANER THAN DA GRINCH HANGING WITH A KLEPTO STRANDED ON A BLOCK OF ICE..........
fuck cleaning a coat// you niggaz love my style so much its like a grope// i got every emcee on this page screaming DOPE// and when i drop this verse/ ill watch u run like garrison hearst/ ur the worst of the worst son// u couldt even defeat me if my mouth was sown closed/ im so ill i will flow out the nostrils in my nose/ i dead niggaz and within 30 seconds there bodies decompose/
so emcees looking to compete/ me vs. u is an automatic defeat/ so stay on the balls of ur feat/ and dont let me catch u flowing inside a beat/
Its ya life that Im stealin'/ya rhymes healin' from my attack on ya wack cats/you blast back I must have to crack stacks/of slack crews who dont know the game, you get slapped 'Black'/pack up ya nap sack, "from the start, DEE had-that"/he bust rhymes from air like he was a cat 'n' hat (Dr. Seuss)/whats sad-is-that you enter with a gleam of hope/when we see how dirty you spit, we all got DREAMS OF 'SCOPE'!/"Am I FLEEIN'? NOPE!" I just need to see the pope/ask his happy as to save you loser, now go home and CLEAN YA COAT! (trench-coat...like trench-coat mafia)
i stop tracks like MTA strikes ,
i blackout like Con edison lights, in washington heights,
you go gold while i go go like speed racer and gadget the inspector,
im the mic rhyme inventor,revive word finds like frankentein,
i've got so much energy
i project through TV, i air rerun shows, but its new to you like NBC,
i conduct electricity, where damns and rivers be,
i spit words thatr stick like rice grains to braces,im the topic sentence before me there's some spaces,
warn ya health from the gunsmoke like the surgeon general,
im like doctor octo, grab 8 men with steel tentacles,
or the xmen who take down magneto and some sentinels,
i spin punch in the center of cypher bouts,
emcees from in the ring they reroute,
like tony montana would say "you got no clout",
it's like you love my hooks, when i go fishin,
aint no frills when i slit gills, you say you can't feel this.
like arnold whatchu talkin bout willis?,
i keep this shit explicit,i write my shit in braile so blind deaf men can feel this,
your like dough and im the chef when i flip this,
pizza crust to the ceilin,like your faith in hard times i got you fuckin kneelin.
how those knees feelin?
TrueSon knowledge from the mic, im wieldin...
WELL GOODNIGHT IT'S 2:30 FOR ME
DON'T LET THE BED BUGS BITE
PLEASE JUST LET THIS 17YR OLD GO TO SLEEP.(SARCASM COMES NATURALLY WHEN I SPEAK)
PEACE OUT AND DON'T POUT IT CAUSES WRINKLES...........
This ideas seriously wack in fact/gathered verses from there mans last-track/or pulling scripts and verses from there back backs/Gorjus, i got nothing to proove/plus you wouldnt understand me like name listings in esetella's groove/pounding herbs harder than fellahs bruise/Cypher Idea been done,/and in the reals you raid post and say "please come"/Well now you got it so twisten your arts crack and your knee-spun/
Blinded of skill you only see-dumb,From now on im gonna hide on your post like "g's" when police come/so you see dun/fuck must i repeat son/This board is made of herbs/yet limited heads are able to grave words/lyricist who manage to add metaphores and place verbs/Skilled heads who if can would erase-nerds/Im not diggen your flavor like i taste-terds/your the type of cat who will use a dictonary to waste words/you said you want heads to bang well give me a gun/ill have your head bang so hard it will destroy your eardrum/have your ear flung/torched to ass resting on grounds of dear-dung/now you want to tear son/and who said you can judge the best,Im capable to kill all emcee and smudge the rest/Leave evidence like im yellen "fuck the mess"/ Blow your heart with a shotgun and say "i didnt know you "love" your chest"/than make your forge a note to your girls for permsion to run her breast/Yo Yo this is not a display of skill,just proof i can decay with will/and i potray as ill/So get your lousy 4-bars/and settle with a negative 4 stars/cause your joint was wack/i just wanted to point the facks/
IF YOU WERE SAND
IM REPRESENTING THE GLASS
HEATED BY A PROBLEM
THAT YOU JUST COULDN'T SURPASS
IT'S LIKE BACK TO THE DAYS
OF WHEN YOU PLAYED BUTT TAG WITH FAGS
YOU ASK QUESTIONS AND LEAVE WHEN
NOT BY DRUGS BUT OF THINGS WICH I TOLD
YOU COMPOSE NO THREAT CAUSE
I'M YOUR LIVING HEATED SWEAT
IT'S PLAIN TO SEE
NO EMCEE CAN MEET MY DIALECT
ON ANY INTERNET
YOUR FULLFILLING YOUR OWN EMBARRESMENT
MY BASEMENT WILL HOLD YOU
LIKE IT HOLDS MY TWO
MOCKING WATCH WHEN I
SPOT THEE IN THE CROWD
SCREAMING OUT SHIT LOUD
IT'S YOU I'M ASHAMED TO BE BESIDE
ON THIS SITE.
THINGS MUST BE DONE
SO IM DOING THEM RIGHT
KITE'S FLY HIGH HIGHTS TO ESCAPE MY
LITE FIRE FLY'S HIDE
CAUSE I ABSORB ALL LIFE
WHEN I DINE
IT'S MY TIME TO RISE
NOT FALL LIKE SNOWFLAKES
I'LL NEVER DISSIPATE
I ANIALATE WHEN I CHOOSE
THAT'S WHY I DEMINSTRATE
DOOR TO DOOR PREACHING
TO WARN OF YOU FAKES YOU
BUNCH OF DRIED OUT GRAPES
TO YOUNG TO BE A PRUNE
BUT AS STUBORNE AS A BULL
AS THE FEW THAT USED TO BE NEW
NOW YOUR ARE OLD
LIKE SOLD FOOL'S GOLD
YOUR ONE THOSE MARRIED WITH CHILDREN EPISODES
YOU SEW TIRED
WHY DON'T YOU
MAYBE THEN YOU'LL PROVE
SOME SATISFACTION INSTEAD YOU
WASTE TIME ON FRAGMENTS OF ACTION
DOMINATES IN YOUR FLOWS
I TRIGGER EFFECTS WORSE THEN A GUN CAN BLOW
SO TELL ME HOW MANY LICKS DOES IT TAKE
TO GET IN
YOU CAN SUCK MY DICK WHEN I WIN............
(spill fast)...i shatter rappers like glass when asked bash see...spark so nasty... i cant even get my gass ta pass me.../so go ahead an ask me..."son u wanna battle..?"...an get rudely ruined an threw in a pool of stool fa persuin looosin.../im the illest spittin...im even iller in text...got more emcees 'cumin" n goin...than ur local whores got tricks...im rawer than this...only shownin yall a fourth of my strength...if i was to fully force my darts in this freestlye session perhaps...id leave every post deleted an teh site'll crash...