WINNER--------->Mister Big Vz reign
8 bar limit = 16 lines
spit to let me know you're down
voting starts after 2nd round (2 round battle)
I'll go 2 rounds wit u
You claim that you lust for crimes, but wouldn’t touch a nine
If yo name was busta rhymes, you still couldn’t bust a rhyme//
After I crush yo spine, i’ma send crooks, to piss on it
You need to “flush” yo mind, cuz my pen took, a shit on it//
Mental capacity is lackin see, sun this so basic
The ink splattered all over ya head, like cum on hoe’s faces//
Extort yo corners but not for cash, askin a life demand
How yo punchlines goin hit?, after i slice the hands//
Yo life couldn't be real, faker than some star wars bitches
Put more holes in yo face than fifty’'s, even son’s bars wore stitches//
I know u take pride in ur job, of bein the local whore
But bra, if u keep on talkin shit, i’ma hang u by yo vocal chords
That anorexic-weak style of yours,on da real shouldn’t be flaunted
You so lame, even if u could kill the “president”,u still wouldn’t be “wanted”*//
I’m not lil’wayne, I only spit, i would hate to vomit man
But one line, can send a earthquake, that’ll “break” yo “promise” land//
even if u could kill the “president”,u still wouldn’t be “wanted" (for a crime) (or by anybody cuz u that lame)
no feeding, i already wrote my second verse so when you drop your first pile of shit, i'll drop my next gem for round 2.
all right hold on tho i got Two collabos in the works and i got stuff at home going on....and a basketball game to attend to soon...
i'll get at you later....trust i wont bring any writtens.
Bring yo writtens, its a battle, don't try to act like u can kill me off the dome. And if u wasn't ready to spit then u shouldn't have challenged.
yea i'm the lyrical rhyme whore everybody wants some
have ya chokin on herpes after i spit in ya lung
takin offense to nigga? niggor? or nigger?
i split back ya wigga in every shape form and figure
dead president? who laid you to rest? freedom of speach?
ya styles irrelevant made the best rhymes shit you can't breach
i don't even know you and where the fuck is walnut hills?
i spit the real that give ya spine a chill now you know the deal
how you gonna try dissin? when you got thumbs up ya butt hole
bussin nut and be kissin men but then again i mentioned my style ascension
you a Czar?well i'm the russian mob chew u up spit u out like corn on da cob
crooks? you get got and took stop actin like you livin what you read in books
i drop the bomb like pearl harbor immigrant oysters whos backs had moisture
incase you didnt know my style fatter then eD's head words cause blood shed
middle finger to the red white and blue your worn out like vaginas
slumped over J.F.K theres a clue 6 feet in a grave where no body can find ya
believe it or not it was off the dome.
Sure, that was off the dome, its shit ball anyways but how yo "off the dome" gonna be better than to writtens, how u sound?
what do you mean?
Yo rap concepts is played out, like the thought that the earth is flat
If you were the last man, after a nuke war, u'd be a worthless fag (think about it)
P-S-3, u purchased that, from the gamestop where lames shop
I cop my shit "hot", U a "head doctor", cuz u luv to give "brain shots" (give head for cumshots)
But i give "brain shots" too, not the kind that leave cum, mine leave lead
Fuck wit me, i'll "spray" the "round up", untill all yo "seeds" dead*
Deep fry you meatheads, in the peroid blood of yo mother
You "beat heads" of three feds, as they cum, flood through yo brother
I gotta a ice cube screw face, when i show it, u'll catch a flu case
I "tied the knot" wit yo girl, cuz u couldn't tie yo fuckin shoelace
U got me pissed bout some words u said, now i really don't like you
From a distance, I thought u was black, now i can see u a dirty white dude
Which is ok, but go take a shower, i can smell that you ain't black
U cain't rap, amongst dick beaters, and pussy eaters, is where you rank at
I don't need it now, but i'm wearin a "word proof vest", it'll be a myrical hurtin me
And my razor rhymes cut up yo "insides", there its done, one lyrical surgery
*"spray" the "round up", untill all yo "seeds" dead-
Meaning one: (round up---"spray" weed killer untill all yo "seeds" dead)
Meaning two: ("spray" a gun "round up" until all yo "seeds"(kids) dead
Dusk can't vote on this battle, and pimptastic, don't get happy and feed off my lines for your second verse.
nigga you's a hot mess gather ya rhymes and work em out
i can tell that there writtens that pen jerk em out
my punches hit harder then a bowl of reinforced brick cerial
most of the shit you spit is "funny" like cartoon material
but it grows old when I grow u lucky im a child
or most of ya lines would be water type mild
this is lyrical mortal combat and the backgrounds shaded
i goudge ya eyes burrow ya chest and leave ya carcass raided
you world of warcraft type gangsta strap ya boots of protection
i calculate more math wanksta while you dont even wake with an erection
wet dreams run dry "U" can't compete with 'I' you might ask 'Y' dream towel
and theres only one reason its because you can't battle without vowels
you dare Grit ya teeth at the beast? i make ya head spin yo
keep grittin and i'll give you a fuckin dental window
teeth nerves shattered triggered uncontrolable bladder
now you leave warm wet and terribly battered
like you was fuckin 'Beer' chicken can't control the shit i'm kickin
Finnaly, let's get some votes, i gotta get cats to come from other sections of the site to vote here.
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