Redline vs Sons of Zadok

[Saint]

Jul 1997 on Thalandz

Redline vs. Sons of Zadok


Representin' for Redline. . .
Hell Dwella
mc2
The Lucifer Archangel
Fard Muhammad Jeagraves
Rajafia
Illmatic
DBS
Rose
DutchMasta Tha Assassin
Kozmic
Tha Gambino
Arabic Al Capone
Emsey Leb

Representin' for Sons of Zadok. . .
Spontaneous
Sankofa
B-Smooth
Breeze
SubtaReign
R2G2

Sons of Zadok:
B-Smooth:



It seems I gotta kill me a muthafucka every winter
Leavin' your feeble styles dismembered, sent to intensive care centers
Your crew is nuts when I'm changin' genders, leavin' pretenders injured
Grindin' your brains to microscopic deposits with AIDS infected blender
Got you open like Lil' Kim, your crew is a bitch so we lyrically pimped her
Knockin' out so many fronts, your whole click looks like dentures
I splatter bones, sendin' you clones to Catacombs to meet your dead rhymes
Shatter domes, encased explosives, impulsive linguistics bust like lead mines
Watch your backs like chiropractics on acid, my tactics shred spines
Chew you nitwits to tidbits and then piss out the Redlines
Rhymes like teeny flames on bikini Hanes, leavin' all asses fried
Your pacified when multi-masses died, so check the classifieds
The toilet flushes itself everytime your your style passes by
You little sluts should be ashamed for fuckin' up so badly
Flows sicker than death drinkin' brandy backslaps you like ya daddy
Styles sequentially surround your crew of flunkies, then attack ya raps
You couldn't pull out a winner, pickin' the boogers out of Crackerjacks
Rhymes snap ya backs so quick, your clique 'ill lose at the next Special
Olympics
Little girls, how does it feel with men's dicks in your apendix?
Take out Redlines like Pirus at the blood bank standing in front of ten Crips
Beat your monkey-asses like Barnum and Bailey for ten cents, my pen whips
Embarrassing your families while gipping your best of flows in wrestle holds
Lyrically leavin' you Living Single like Kyle Barker with severed testicles
Knock you so far into next week, you can tell me the next five episodes
When Hell Dwella freezes over, your crew's left draped in plastic
Dont...(punch!)...you...(whap!)...ever...(pop!)... in...yo'
life...(pow!)...fuck
it, you'll get your ass kicked
Nicotine patches couldn't stop us from smokin' you when your ass gets snuffed
Biligually Assassinating the Mastas in Dutch, Sons seeing pass the bluffs
Beat your ass so hard, 'til niggas that didn't like you screamin' "That's
enough!"
Coldblooded imaginations relacing your ligaments with handsaws
I could give a sideways fuck, y'all niggas ain't worth the sweat off my man's balls
Don't know whether to smile at you or perform CPR, your sent to I.C.U
With razor-sharp knives, your sliced in two, now I despise your crew
The whole board knew you'd lose- some niggas was bein' nice to you
Burst ya minds with my worst of rhymes until I barely hear a breath
If I called your parents they'd probably slap your asses for bein' so near to death
Thoughts tear ya flesh, I'm disassembling your organs in a red pile
Shed a smile 'til my crew says, "Heavens sake, I think they're dead now!"
Verbally beating you simoutaneously to a pulp, my thoughts abolish you
Liquids leakin' from every follicle, breaking your team into miniture molecules
Lyrically whipping your crew into shape like field-niggas in arobics class
Your flows get thrashed with shovels, stomped in a puddle and dragged through broken glass
If I see y'all in the streets, I'm bitch-slappin' you in the dome-plates, better phone jakes
I'm leavin' your bodies scattered in your own waste
Make it so your dicks hurt everytime you try to think
Slice out your eyelids and force you to blink, your out of sync
My ice-cold poetics givin' Deadline niggas shivers
I'll get meidevil with a wrench and scissors so stop mailin' my sister
Triiiioooock...biiioootch!

Sankofa:
let's face it when you try to attack the Catacombs
you go to great pains but with no brains you wrack your domes
Sons could flood you all with one line like Klein's wack cologne
but we'd rather crumble your empire with raps and cause the sack of Rome
look like the sack of horseshit rimes that you're presenting
dedicating what was once Redline as your coffin's cementing
to the newest order but fuck the presidential
survive on martinis, find the mind you have and collectively drench your mental
just from incidental contact
loading train of thought locomotives with dope explosives for the bombtrack
grinding your horseshit reputations for glue to repair your wack act
leaving the gong cracked
while you're stuck on artificial intelligence the Sons are parsecs beyond that
coming off the dome with deadly science like military secrets bounced to comsat
after shitting on Redline for so long i've forgotten where the john's at
little Redlines it's bedtime unable to get this high if you had third
encounter contact
tearing out your spine and moving it to occidental lines and now your Magic's
stuck with Koncak rimes stepping and catching torn medial cruciates
RSPCA's coming down on the Sons because we're dogging Redline abusive
face it, Redline couldn't move cliquess if you kidnapped bats and brought
them along with your raps trying to use their sonar to locate Catacomb
cataclysms
so far, if Redline's the essence of hip hop then i'm trading my
manuscripts in for a country western starter kit
you must have got stoned and travelled in time for St Stephen's feces
cause Redlines are on some martyr shit
recruiting the wackest teams since Bill Fitch and the Clips
coming with promised flows that just bitch and drip while Sons overcome
Noah doubled
rewinding father Time with until Sons emiT gigawatts of knuckles and
reverse your birth
donUt confuse Sons with cheap proctologists we donUt give a shit about the
vorth of your verse
your bigger plots for scuffles are about as complex as Baywatch
letting you asses drown after the overlookers have been payed off
you play softer than Nerf toys for crack babies
Sons smash Redline records like kids with ADDs do LPs so how you like that

ladies...

SubtaReign:



SubtaReign opens membranes to cease ya wack campaign

Nothing to gain, what remains, not the Redline name

New foes arose and broke the status quo, make it a no-show

Leavin Redline flatline when prime rhymes combine

Which pumps energy like turbines, open up the turpentine

I guess it's about time to fuck ya like a concubine

Then peep the results on Dateline with Tom Brokaw

Left with broke jaws from the Rizla manifestin like Akira

I got more styles than your members got affiliates

Claimin we rep supercilious, now thats on sum bullshit

Gettin perilous as we lay waste like charged isotopes

>From placid to radioactive, denote Redline provoked

Bring degrees like spherical, but ya didnt expect the reciprocal

>From Scientific Natural Mystikal, Redline left in critical

Watchin all of y'all grandstand, time to stick it to ya caravan

Wack rhymes are illegal, guess y'all packin contraband

Even if y'all came deeper than the population of Cairo

We're still flamin like pyro, oh? didnt know about the SuperNo?

Get it Straight like Gibraltar, Sons never falter

Bring it to the alter and we'll alter thru slaughter

So why bother actin as the Seraphims' cannon-fodder?

Switch steez like Leningrad to St. Petersberg

Avalanche ya camp and come thick like an iceberg

With sickness blowin up like Georgia abortion clinics

Knocked out drowsy pseudophedics while curin Redline epidemics



Spontaneous:



Ya'll wack kids can't even "C' me



Ceaselessly Composing Complex Colloquials Conceived through Cerebral

Cybernetics/

Catacomb Cantilenas Collect Corpses via Cryptographic Conflicts and

Conceptual Cryogenics/

Consuming Combatant's Chi, Convoluted Complexes Collapse when Challenged by

Competence/

Confronting Cankerous Crews Contaminating Cyber Ciphers, Crushing their

Confidence/

Canonized Communications Containing Clever Conjectures Corrodes Corrupt

Combinations/

Capricious Cliques Couldn't Come off Comparable Conducting Continuous

Castrations/

Celestial Conflagration Cauterizes Challengers' Concocted Claims of

Clairvoyance with Criticism/

Cranial Chalices Convey Consecrated Concoctions Ceremoniously Convening

Cataclysm/





Redline???.check it



Renouncing repulsive rhetoric, rudimentary retaliation results in Redline

ruination/

Ethical emasculation evident, expose egocentric elements to eternal

exoneration/

Depopulate Dungeons deliberately decimating decadence via demoralizing

dissemination/

Lethal lyricists loosing learned linguistics leaves the licentious with

lacerations/

Imbecile incineration, invigorated by ignorance it inspires idealistic

innovation/

Naturally negating nonsensical nobodys, negativity necessitates

neutralization/

Engagements end in enemy eradication, energies effect esoteric

enunciation.../



Sons the serum...


Hell Dwella:


"Waged War: Setting it off": Hell Dwella et "Dominus"



Memory aids, mnemonics, Visions of death, solar eclipse//

Destruction procreated, pages impregnated, Flexing Sharp Tips//

Ness Untouchable, indestructible, Astronomical, HIV Fatal//

Bright light, Retina Blinding, I'v won another lyrical fight//

Wisdom spoke from the linguistic tongue, Linear B, symbolic//

Prowess crystalized intelligence breaks down emcees, reactions metabolic//

Lyrical enzymes, pantomimes, metaphor, bring death, Mc Beth Drama//

Panic attack, Cardiac arrest, Sons Of Zodok in the ward owe Trauma//

Life support systems, fail to sustain, Sankofa, suffering in pain//

Screaming hysterically, as vocab's from REDLINE burn out his mind//

2 Dope 4 words, prophets for-tell defeat, REDLINE snipers take aim//

Fire six rounds, shabaz, Sons Of Zodock, all have been REDLINED//

Their Catacombs desecrated, tombs been burned, and destroyed//

Spirits caught, and sent to the darkness, of the void//

Where all opponents who tess once before Dwell for all eternity//

No peace for the dead, Victims, blind eyes still see, a casualty//



REDLINE CLICK: HELL DWELLA et "DOMINUS"


DBS:


"Uh Oh... Trouble (Multiple Formats)"



~ Intro ~



Redline Click representation/ Sons choked on poisonous serums//

hip hop seraphiums/ be preapred to face yer inevidible demise//

Daughters of Zadok got raped verbally/ mentally/ undressin you with my eyes//

littering cells of Catacombs/ with skeletal bones/ where ya roam//

Redline's zone/ our home/ hittin high-pitched tones/ while ya groan...



~ Humor Style ~



Bitch-Smooth will transform into Bitch-Ruff when verbal thrashings are complete//

Spont's Anus/ iz in pain-us/ frum too much time on the toilet seat//

Sankofa's retreatin swiftly/ but advancing Nowhere//

werds pass by me/ similar to the unpleasant aromatic Breeze in the air//

scared/ Daughters can't compete/ when DOZ iz in tha midst of defeat//

rain/ over SubtaReign's/ terrain/ initiatin eternal pain//

Daughters succin more dicks than prostitution rings, reminicin over peeps that came//

Sons' "dope" style got defeated by a member's butt-ugly sister (ah ha!)//

flatchested bitch posted a rhyme then everybody wanted ta hit her//

REDLINE's troops, destroyin an entire crew with only one verse//

shall I commence flexin voodoo style? Fucc it, yer already eternally cursed !!!



~ Basic Style ~



Serums are baccwashed when combined with REDLINE toxin ingredients//

your overated reputation iz slowly decreasin in microscopic increments//

rhymin instruments/ are the only weaponry we need ta determine a victor//

shakin Daughters down, with magnitudes that can't be measured on scales of Richter//

stastic figures show tha outcome of this confrontation belongs to REDLINE//

unwerthy adversaries, claimin one verse anniahlate our rhymes/ anytime//

givin who verbal beatdowns? REDLINE Click's record iz undefeated//

Daughters' style iz more childish than a fetus/ verses are repeated...



~ Outro ~



First verbal blow haz been completed, plenty forthcoming//

more astonishing, astounding, harsh, an' heart stunnining...

REDLINE Click indeed !!!


http://www.thalandz.com/war8b.html

Redline vs. Sons of Zadok
[Part 2]
mc2:

who wanna, you wanna, they all wanna,
come test this top gunner,
this mc, the synaptic stunner...
i hit with light saber type sharpness and swiftness,
in the hands of obiwan,
the jedi known as kenobi,
do it ninja 8-bit style...
original shinobi...
kick it veteran style moses malone to rookie style kobi,
all the way out in L.A.,
way around the way,
a whole coast and country away,
but hip hop mind sets are the same,
all kings takin out pawns in this game,
of lyric chess,
and the points are tallied with holes in chests,
peep this illmatic progress,
all forward motion,
no reverse digress,
catch the broad axe of lyric splittin hairs and skulls
wide open,
i just received eye implants to improve my laser sight scopin...
this freestyle is short,
an offensive assault in this crew battle,
peep th future as REDLINE kicks mad lyric,
while SOZ comes with raw BABBLE,
that's all i got for this quick strike attack.
fuck swarzenegger and E. Sermon...
i'll be back.

mc2,
str8 freestyle, no corrections, no regrets.

iLLmAtic:

SOZ, start signaling SOS cause your in danger, bunch of
disclaimers meaning your in a state of denial, living emcee's
I stomped in a pile as high as a mile/put yall's asses on trial,
and i'll be the judge, in a grudge match, the loser most definitely
will be the Zodiaks, sending out contracts on lives, two best
crews on the net can't coincide/then we collide and the victor will
be the REDLINE, fine sermon, thought your flows were influenced by
the man known as Pee Wee Herman/who dwells in the play house,
your rhymes slouch like a couch potato from Idaho/come colder then
artic snow, running up on your spot as if I was the Po Po/breakin 'em down
like four, five, six, cello/Yo, I never step down from a challenge, lyrical emcee
coming with many talents/put you on the high wire and make you lose your
balance/have much SENSE but yall niggas flow COMMON, go run to ya moms
sobbin, lyrics take flight like a robin, you should go back to singing songs by
Phil Collins or start head bangin with the Rawlins/Band, I follow my nose like I was
Toucan Sam, and i smell sh*t/coming from the direction of those Zo-dick heads, brand
REDLINE on there eternal resting beds/like George Bush said,"Read my lips", SOZ gettin
there title stripped/we have more Flip then Wilson, giving brain tension, massive head aches,
doing what it takes/battle any where from the Equator to the Great Lakes, hate you with a
passion/test and i'll com with the mind state of Charles Manson/evil like the Good Son, battlin yall
is Child's Play, make Chucky run/refuse to be out done, you know what dun?, Sons of Zodiack, father
is on crack, teeth full of plaque, features coming abstract, tryin to diss cause the skills lack/gettin on my
nerves like a little brat, so be prepared for the lyrical bashin, REDLINE click is simply smashin/not askin
for any hand outs, take verbal blows to your snout, lookin like a child who got coal for Christmas, pout, mount
up, ready to ride high, pledge my elegance like the forturnity Omega Psi Phi/blooming like Red Tides.........
Breeze:

Enter my hemisphere? how dare you try to f**k me? guess you're queer
Squared emcees lackin' area, Lucifer is steppin' near
Wit Assassins and still amassin' no-body wait (weight) for clashes
Tailor made Sonz got Redline Chics battin' eyelashes
Frustrations creatin' degradation to dissin' family members
Maintain focus on Sonz 'cause Daughterz castrate parts of timber
Got more cracks than blubber in the facts you udder
Since you like dicks I guess your Click is Sonz nut-huggers
Analyze my techniques to teach the weak in rhyme sessions
Blessin' headz like the Pope, you can't cope wit dope?
Check Betty Ford for hope and take up piano lessons
New professions designated for the Click hittin' Deadline
More like rejects collected for the Delta's B-Line
See minds manipulated by the rhymes I've augmented
Next time, you'll see another steez when represented
No need for corrections 'cause I've erased all mistakes
Your style's humurous, get some new arms to bear the weight
It's nice to know you won't give in on your uphill struggle
But Sonz the gravity, when you crash-land
I'll be d**ned if your a** ain't soft as snuggle...


Epilogue

Redline Click fights valiantly to climb out of the trenches they've
dug themselves into. Breeze returns to the armory as he switches
weapons for the next battle...
Arabic Al Capone:

I request that you all buckle-up before reading tha following (red)lines, it's going to be a bumpy ride. Thank you, and enjoy. *evil grin*


Fuck yeah! while tha whole REDLINE be hittin' skinz with B Smooth's sister/
I'ma blow away SOZ, jus like Twister/
when your this fuckin' big they call you mister/
and like a blister on internal places/
I sting! like gettin' your dick sucked by a shorty with braces/
ooOOOoOOooOooOOooOOoOOoOOoOOo how tha fuck did that sound?/
this is my third time around/
6 feet underground is where tha SOZ troop lies/
cause I'm harder then Mc Donald's fries/
and more sinister then Sadat X's lazy eyes/
cries of sorrow rang out, when I stepped in to this battle/
cause I sqaushed the beef, and REDLINE(d) tha cattle/
R2G2 your tattle lines are almost as funny as Death Row signing Hammer/
for your clique to defeat me would be like BAHAMEDIA making tha cover of Glamour/
lock you up in tha slammer, meet my ARABIAN KNIGHTS/
we'll scare tha shit outta ya, like your momma in tights/
whether street fights or freestyle boards/
we summin' our LORDS...
not LATIN but like L.A.- were your -BOYS/
and just like toys, we play with ya once and leave ya ta collect dust/
REDLINE pumpin' more drenalin then an FBI coke bust/
it's a must that we win/
anything else would be a sin/
forbidden type raps/
Dutch master gettin SOZ dizzy with his CAPS/
mc2 verbally given opposition verbal thunderclaps/
i'm takin' naps, cause SOZ bore tha fuck out of me/
better yet you kids ennoy me like Judge Judy/
takin' tha law into your hands like every other yahoodi/
I seem moody, but i'll whoop yo ass till tha brake of dawn/
give it up for EMSEY LEB, tha pride of Lebanon/
Word is bond, you niggas can't touch this/
hey BREEZE put these lines in tha AXIS/
while my nigga DBS presents.../
Spontaneous repents, to tha almighty REDLINE/
let me define/
~a loosley termed organization fighting WACK who cross tha line/
this title is mine, as I get more Psycho then Sid/
I fighting this battle so heads c me more then just a kid/
I'll leave you like Bill Cosby's son, Dead/
nah nah, that was to rude, take back what I said/
I'll leave u on your death bed/
and like given' head you get tha (Sons of) bulzac/
i'll stab you in tha back...
...like J5_Wizardry/
nah i'm jokin' kid, any arab head is cool with me/
you never see me departed from tha mic/
cause I whoop fake emcee ass like Jackie Chans FIRST STRIKE/
Sons of Zadok you heads like to talk about dicks, do y'all portray some sort of fag?/
fagget's? "your it", like tag/
and like a 70 yearold women's tits do you let your pant's sag?/
cause if you are I'm a leave you headz bloodyer then a female on her rag/

Oh my God, I made SOZ cringe like they blew a wet fart...
DBS:

"Attackin Tha R's"

~ Humor Style ~

Well, well, well whut have we here?... R2G2.... Ha!... Now where should I begin?//
Hmmmmm... A'ight how's this, tell me can ya comprehend//
Werds I twist/ when my verbal hits//
you fuccin wanna be ganksta android floatin in cyber-space//
you'll be seein more Star(s) (Wars) than Sethro's when Disco Squad massacre took place//
Robotic2Ganksta2, where's yer buddy Luke G-Walker?//
Whuss that? You don't wanna lyrical battle, how'z a duel with light-sabers?//
We may have about az much "cents" az dollar changers//
but you seem like you got yers out of a vending machine, iz that still stranger?//
REDLINE Vs. SOZ iz like a little boy fighting his father!?!?//
I dunno but maybe yer dad abuses you sexually? Maybe thass why yer a Daughter//
callin our shit "half-ass" while Sankofa screams it out when sittin on one cheek//
all attention iz focused on me, similar to effects when a nun speaks//
Whut would R2D2/ do/ when he saw you/ misuse/ his name with waccness?//
destroyin OG-Wan/ Han/ Solo, an' the rest of yer DOZ affiliates//
REDLINE wins yet anutha one, so pleez... Cease/ yer silly shit....

Foolish mutherfuker...
R2G2:

Peep game like Little Bo who don't know Diddley
you bitches are skating on thin ice like Cathy Rigby
and speaking of bitch shit, what's up with your rhymes?
all these homosexual fantasies repeated line after line
I'm beginning to understand your motivation for this contest
you pansies are searching for some queers to molest
but I have to tell you that you chose the wrong catacomb
try making a Castro District bathhouse your permanent home
prone to only get with women, Sons are laughing at your fetish
after y'all demand that other men suck your dicks, do you even regret it?
because both Hell and Rajafia have said it and now everyone has read it
ask Dennis Rodman, a latent persuasion can run your life if you let it
bet, it's official, your clique's comprised of flaming fags
Redline has outed itself like base runners missing a bag
and I protest your eccentricities because in my book they're illegal
bad enough you prefer men but your styles are all so feeble
weak, childlike, hesitant, and stupid
forget his golden arrow, y'all would probably love to fondle Cupid
I'm disgusted by your presence, you fuckin juvenile delinquents
castration is in order for you and all your loose-cheeked constituents
and Fard Muhammed has the nerve to call himself a god
for Ramadan you('re) fast, but only for throbbing genital rods
Allah please have mercy, there's some sweet ones in your ranks
asking their brothers to apply their luscious lips and start to yank
Redline, this is some blasphemous shit that your crew has engaged in
I hope y'all use two-ply condoms while being sucked by infected patrons
my patience is wearing thin like the content of your raps
you little boys go on to bed, either fuck yourselves or nap

Aside from being some full-fledged homosexuals, y'all are some serious
assholes for talking about B-Smooth's sister the way y'all have. That shit
is way the fuck out of line. I can't wait until karma catches up with you losers.

R2G2
Sons of Zadok
DBS:

"Attackin Tha R's Pt. 2"

~ Basic Style ~

Daughters of Zadok, ya git bombed on/ like graffiti headz rockin in LeBanon//
REDLINE's verses are geometric an' more sided than agents in Pentagons//
but you keep runnin around in circles, thinkin you'll advance to Boardwalk//
this ain't Monopoly however, so ya git tha boot 'cuzz wackness iz yer fault//
when tryna duplicate Carbon Copies machines hault/ Sons of Zerox's default//
perhaps a Cannon will suit ya better, 'cuzz I'm strait blastin out rhymes//
why do y'all continue flowin wack shit? I guess y'all missed tha stop sign//
impacts of Catacomb Cataclysms have no affect on me, 'cuzz they're too weak//
like furnaces terned on at Miami games with gunslingin spectators, I bring Heat//
R2G2 be accusin us, claimin "half of your lines/ don't even rhyme"//
then pleez explain whut mumble-jumble Sankofa posted overhead//
tha Click ain't Dead(line)/ an' yer shit wouldn't flow if it was sed/ instead//
R2G2, don't try ta hold a contest/ ya fuccin Star Whores reject//
crushin Sons like irrating insects/ they git no respect//
Rizla soundin like a monster rejected frum Japanese movies//
claimin we participate in cyber-sex sessions, attemptin ta git "groovy"//
fucc that!!! While you belly-ache about yer troubles about makin an album//
"Oh I have no production", bitchin bout yer damm problems//
SubtaReign, callin himself a perfectionist when his rhymes look like crap//
Sons runnin shit so slow, I've already surpassed/ you three laps//
ternin R2G2's gadget-like mechanizms/ into Rust(-O-Leum)//
REDLINE's verses are Smoother than B(reakin) on linoleum//
SOZ still addressin themselves as SonZ 'cuzz they ain't gittin enuff estrogen//
releasin gasly material similar to hydrogen/ but chemical compounds/
are nowhere to be found...

Fuccin idiots...
Hell Dwella:

"Owed DaZ BliZZ: Da Lyrical Storm" Hell Dwella

Its REDLINE Wearing down sons of zadok like the 911 numbers on a paranoia schizophrenic's phone//
As whirlwinds of lyrical rage sweep all Sons away in defeat with Lyric's greater then "Breeze", in the from of a Twistin Cyclone//
Ripping their limbs out there sockets, the winds keep blown, Verbal hail rain storms, sterang//
Eroding the styles of B-Smooth, changing his name to "Ever Dull", like the movie chity chity bang bang//
As he gets on up Spent-Anus, like a "intravenous penis", And the rest of The Sons of Bozack//
Oreo Cookie move making with the cream in the middle, two sides thrust hard and Black//
Your pre-written garbage is more gay then you, and you pack more gay in your name then Ben//
You all best drop to your knees, as you do for johns and with respect pay hommage to this lyrical devil//
Raising hell fire, incinerating all Sons, with lyrical infernos, that burn hotter then Madonnas desire for sex//
Or Spent-Anuses desire for sodomy, Sons cant see me, cant target what you cant see, yet "Eye See U", and target you, with verbal Dialects//
Sharper then Einstein's mind, Creating Lyrical explosions when setting off, greater then nuclear bombs, Tested in projects Manhattan//
Devastating Sons of Zadok lyrical fakers, cashing in on dicks as if they were bank tellers, As I bringing more pain then Meth from Staton//
Leaven Son Carcuses all over the terrain, Cumming more live then the females I spread wide open on the regular//
Keep flowing phat ass freestyles time after time, to dead fake ass Sons, who cant spit a dope lyric if they tried cuz semen blocks their jugular//
Cum stuck all up in their esophagus, and their Anus, therefore they cant drop shit, and cant handle this//
Lyrical force from REDLINE, leaven SON niggaz with a straight red flatline------------------//
On a emergency ward hospital monitor, Sons a goner, You all iced like Neptune//
Lights out, nighttime, you all sliced to pieces from the sharpness of this freestyle rhyme//

Hell Dwella: On the Battle Wrath, killing Sons with Rage
REDLINE CLICK: Peace to ill Crew: 97 to beyond
R2G2:

So you think that you can hack it with 166 lines of wackness?
y'all got a lot to learn about the value of intrasquad practice
although y'all are already playing yourselves in a public Forum
but this isn't Inglewood, you're not the Lakers, and you're game is fuckin boring
it takes an entire page of writing for y'all to come up with any shred of wit
your Lines flow like tuberculosis patients endlessly squirting Red shit
Hell('s) bent on whining to anyone on the message board supporting us
while all of his sexual innuendo is obviously a faggot attempt to be courting us
but as I told you previously, you're never gonna get it
being gay is not En Vogue within our world so please forget it
your minds must be dormant or in a lull, it ain't hard to tell
because half of you mothafuckas haven't even learned to spell
please tell me how we aren't supposed to treat you all as children
when y'all attack us with WWF and baseball cards references like elementary schoolyard villains?
can't your topics transcend your own incapability's?
better change those soiled diapers because I can smell that you lost your facilities
with agility and stamina Sons become the Dungeon managers
handing out pink slips with no severance to uppity, incompetent amateurs
y'all were foolish to think that y'all could ever match our styles
we don't need the acceptance of any fuckin signed emcee at an open mic
night to know that we're versatile
Redline rhymes are monotonous like an essay written in pencil
y'all never leave the bounds of the standard poetry stencil
you're just too damn basic, but I wouldn't trust giving y'all acid
y'all would get too emotional, lose your cool, and get all spastic
face it tricks, you're completely getting your asses kicked
in every category of battle, in every muthafuckin facet
and there's only two days left to accumulate fresh artillery and guns
give it up like Public Enemy, you're no match for the Sons

R2G2
Son of Zadok
Emsey Leb:

"One two, one two mic checkin' y'all
bring your crew, I'm swingin' through like a wreckin' ball"

Zadok with no rhymes, just confusion, yo you lost me
You be Son's of Zadok? more like son's of Bill Cosby
Bcuz you'll end up dead when this battle's over
Kcuf Elmo nigga, I be ticklin' you like Grover
Ess Oh Zee losin' battles, but yo I don't care
REDLINE producing rhymes that's on point like Bart's hair
Yes indeed, in this war REDLINE will succeed
With rhymes so SWEET you need your teeth brushed as you read
Lebanese trapeez that be swingin' like a pendulem
REDLINE & AK sybols are like the Superman embelem
Emsey, the one and only no phoney, Sherlock homey
"SHOW ME" you'll be sayin' as I leave your crew lonely
Here's some rhymes you can use, but you still owe me
Bcuz I be Arab Knight that can fight like Tie Domi
Yeah you know it's me, lyric flow Emsey
I grow a tree with herbs check my words of poetry
I apply the supply of rhymes like Economics
Buy low and sell high, yo Mohamed get's on it
Set your balls on fire with the "goodness gracious"
Redline vs. SOZ (be like the crew of racists)
Check my homeostasis, "You here me girls? Okay sis?"
I be the man from the sand with rhymes as an oasis
SOZ, here's a gun, now let's take 10 paces
You shouldn't ever kcuf with a prisoner escapist
SOZ ain't my sons (but I used to be a rapist)
Yo moms was poker faced but you know the stakes is
high, check my hand, I got a king and 4 aces
Shoot SOZ monsters like when I play Quake isht
No need for replacements, REDLINE be causin' face lifts
to SOZ striking out, Emsey be hittin' base hits
Parallel to adjacent, yo nigga I hate this
To leave SOZ for later, I have to put you on my wait list
Leave you tasteless like salt on your braceletts
I make fists smash and leave'em in water like cray fish
Ess Oh Zay's dissed bcuz all they do is say isht
Embrace this fact and act like you can vacate this
premisis, be the nemesis, I wish I could tape this
It's like a Zodak moment, you be components when I break dicks
You can't bribe me niggaz, yo I don't take gifts
I leave you locked up like numbers in my kcufin' matrix
Numbers like 9, 4, 3, 7, 8, 6
Vacate this holiday when REDLINE be on hiatus
I'm the baddest check my status (but pronounce it "StayTiss")
Shameless and laceless
case dsmissed


REDLINE & KNIGHTS CONNECTION
Spontaneous aka Z-Nth:

Sons the PAnaCEa, O(u)r-land(ed)-(bl)o(w)s, pancake oppos with offensive lines amassed/
don't Miss our Butta-worth flows, Redline's Jamiama's (ya mime us)exposed, they best break-fast/
unsurpassed verbal blasts ruptures synapse gaps and collapse chest cavities/
DBS reveals transsexual fantasies and calls it steez, please, ya'll the epitome of wack emcees/
what's next, mother jokes? take notes as we give more beatdowns than Michael Johnson during Sidney Olympics/
my multi-linguistics speak to hearts, ears, souls and third eyes, while these guys are mere mimics/
sky limits are transcended, these Boyz step II Men with bended patellas but still can't kick it/
more Wick-e(n)d than O'Shea waxing 666 asses on Halloween, my tracks constrict shit/
meaning I rect-um, select from prints (Prince) more a-kin to Fresh than Karen Parson's be/
makin' every rival emcee hand-off the Mike swifter than Tyson committing B.C. larceny/
I'm sparkin' thee imaginations of hip-hop headz by bridging cerebral chasms/
we're so Nice Redline couldn't com-Pete during Prime Minister induced orgasms/
it can't be debated, Sons originated this entire Vibe like Quincy magazine endeavors/
verbal incisors severs the rhyme from my mind, while they diggin' for their Websters'/
Hella begged CrazySmooth to join Redline, but she didn't want no part of their wack charade/
it crushed his ego, with a head that big he should lead the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade·/


·Hella Dwella that shit you posted about CrazySmooth was the wackest pile
of horseshit I ever saw. Fuckin' Ghetto Boys wanna-be. Just when I was
startin' to gain some measure of respect for ya'll as emcees (some of you
are actually showin' skills·keep bringin' it) you post some stupid ass shit
like that. That ain't hip-hop, it's a sick prepubescent fantasy. You wanted
to battle us so damn bad, so why aren't ya? Writin' about someone who ain't
here to defend herself and who ain't even in our crew. Wack-ass fool. To
the rest of Redline: a few of ya'll are nice. No doubt. And ya got the
potential to be a nice crew. But ya'll will never get the respect ya
deserve with an idiot like Hella at the helm. Just my opinion. Think about
it·.now back to the regularly scheduled ass whoopin'·.


Sons are puttin' more Souls on Ice than Eldridge Cleaver rockin Rass Kass barefoot in ice-skates/
on frozen lakes, "this is 10% diss, 90% skill", while they spill 100% wack Penthouse forum out-takes/
I beat breaks with dyslexic wolf (flow) techniques flyer than if Goldblum boarded Continental/
so transcendental a psychic neurologist practicing telepathy couldn't see Sons mental/
I'm so damn sick of Redline's Bull(s)-shit I feel like an overworked United Center custodian/
wish they'd quit fillin' the Dungeon with their childish bits and take them shits to Nickelodeon/
Gambino was right we're "3 feet" high, and Risen faster than Left-Eye strippin' to De La joints/
when ya finished go back and read the whole thing again and maybe you'll catch half my points·/

Sons the serum·
Gambino tha Godfatha:

HUNTIN YA DOWN (Warm in up for a serial killin Part II)

Round 2 attack formation
Take a leave of absence, and we'll call it vacation
Cause it's not gettin easier in these killin fields
Many scrapes and bruises plus many caps been peeled
As on-lookers vote on a whole crews dream
I'll keep my flow goin like a moutain high stream
Az my flow hit your brain your lost in a daze
It's not the first time, I got so many wayz
To defeat, to kill, or lyrically slay
Try to defeat the line and your whole crew pays
They call me Gambino, freestyle king
Because of the vicious lines my tongue brings
It lashes out quick, spits my rhyme out fast
Don't bring anotha rhyme cause it might be your last
Better keep your style tight, as tight as a virgin
Creepin through the depths, my shadow is emergin
Quick to take you over, covered by the black
Now ya can't see shit, blind sided attack
The wrath of the LINE gets into your mind
Daily grind, not your kind, death certificates signed
and sealed as we make it official
S.O.Z.'s come with nothin but a flow that's artificial
REDLINE gonna break it down for your wack asses
Need to find a university that's teachin rappin classes
Free passes to your show cause no one's gonna buy it
We bringin ya'll the law like that hick sheriff called Wyatt
In the west... but I represent the east
Lookin to tha future and find your whole crew deceased
At least you had a chance to see definite perfection
Our crew wins again like Clinton's reelection
Infection, now let me point you in tha direction
So you can see a doctor about your 2 inch erection
Rock hard, like you had seen a porno movie
Don't fuck with Bino, I've been in and out of juvie
Hall, that's not all, I pack maja heat
And I got more hustle than the Red's Mr. Pete
Rose and it shows, by the way that I flows
Got ya wishin everyday you had the styles I bestow
Really do, I'm back to bring the Big Hurt
Not Frank Thomas, kill'd 'em, see 'em layin in the dirt
Face down
Really never seen Chi-Town
So that part was bullshit, but had me the royal crown
I clowned on these S.O.Z.'s fools
REDLINE rules, you got schooled
Get some lyrical tools
Round 2 is completed for the G-A-M-B-I-N-O
But I'm comin back creepin find me on the down low.
Rajafia:

"The Essence Of A HipHop God's Battle Freestyle" ** Rajafia **

"Jump Spread out" like Jamal-ski in a battle stance//
Like KRS1, With mad lyrical skill's I take you out in an instance//
With freestyles smoother then Slick Rick, a.k.a. Ricki D//
When I flex the M.----I.----C. And be all I can be, like the military//
Giving Sons more beats then Dougie Fresh out the Box//
Stomping Sons Of Zadok bitches, who fronting on REDLINE cocks//
Sons sing the paparazzi like Xzibit, its a shame//
Sons "Cross Over" Like E-Double, wit, PMD, in the Rap game//
Make my sick, So I beat the false hiphop images down, and leave em with a Black-I//
And still these niggaz "Still Caught Up", like groupies of Saukrates, why?//
They even bother testing my style with blue steal like M.O.P.//
Cuz my styles bullet proof, contents strong, Flowing RapEssentials like BeatFactory//
In a lyrical battle I make any advasary see stars like Ptolemy//
Smoken Fake emcees in Box Car Sessions, with Safar//
With lyrical heat so hot, on first contacts, they sear//
I give niggaz who tess so many body aches, they in need of triple douse's of ben-hur//
Like Frankenstein, I bring pain, lit by a white candle in the dungeon, with freestyle Butter//
"You wanna battle"(Saukrates), "you playing your self"(Jeru), "Step Up And Get Wrecked"//(Saukrates) (Cuts)
"That's who it was, and that's how it is"// (casual)
REDLINE FOREVER, Shine Strong in any weathers//
Sons of Zadok, my lyrical sharpness Severs//
In the name of REDLINE, and hiphop purification//
I rock the planet, planet rock, rock like Zolo Nation//

** Rajafia: Mic Messiah: Hot like Fire: REDLINE Original Soldier **
SubtaReign:

Thirteen deep soundin monotone, flip scripts like hour glass
Think of sperm with 23 chromosomes, Redline don't know the half
At task the Zadok staff surpass, like a gunshot victim's ass
Y'all catchin flak, in fact, we react like chemical
Left needin medical, deterioriatin like earth's environmental
Steppin in hotta this year, in effect like the Greenhouse
Reappear as cavaliers surroundin like the atmosphere's about
Ya flow could never quench my thirst, so I burst ya network
Traverse ya verse, got more in Redline than a full cavity search
Only Xerox if they make paper shreds, fragile eggs from the dregs
Left with peg legs, couldn't stand up, couldnt get the edge
Like a blade, if y'all in the industry, y'all Tricks of the trade
Now a military enclave that had all ammo set off by a single grenade
Bringin shrapnel, plus more precise than a fractal
The Sub's bangin like twenties or Augustus Pablo dubs
Redline intertwined in Sons' rhymes so they cant rise above...
Gambino tha Godfatha:

SERIAL KILLIN PART III

(Member of Sons talkin to tha PD)

50: Nah nigga, Nah nigga, Nah nigga, Nah
Tell me what ya heard and exactly what ya saw

Son: I recollect what I heard, but what I saw I don't remember
All that I know is that it was a REDLINE member
He came to the mic and put my crew to resto
Talkin some shit about REDLINE's manifesto
Then he went crazy kill us all like Mariachi
Didn't see his face but he was wearin all Versace
Zadok killa, what the fuck could we do
Took our whole crew out, without leavin a clue

(Confession of Gambino)

The story is true I'm the Zadok killa
REDLINES ARMY, we got tactic guerillas
Waged warfare, worse the Vietnam
Killed more crews than the Hiroshima bomb
Next crew on the list is tha S.O.Z.'s
Another REDLINE victory, watch them Sons flee
Retreat, fast, ain't got no chance
Ain't got any talent, styles need to be enhanced
Advanced as the REDLINE CREWS various flows
Never seen defeat, always destroyin our foes
And until our dyin day will will never be beat
So sit your ass back down in the fuckin loser seat
We got the thrown, we will rule eternally
When we do our killin ussually done nocturnally
At night, the vest time to do our crim
Never being caught is the part that's so sublime
Yer outta time, now standin face to face with death
We put you in a choke hold got ya strugglin for breath
Ya body goes limp as your eyes close shut
S.O.Z.'s got worse luck than the curse of King Tut
Spiral, crash like a plane fallen down head first
Our comrades rank the best, as S.O.Z.'s rank the worst
Left oves, ya'll are the runts of the pack
Probably because your whole damn style is so wack
S.O.Z.'s suckin dick for the time being
Your crew needs some practice from the side that I'm seeing
So come back again when your able and willin
And get your ass ready for anotha serial killin......the saga shall continue
Sankofa:

I quote Hell "Sons Tess REDLINE CLICK Mercenaries"
what's the point of representing if you need remuneration
the same boomed on nation that you're paying will tern quicker than seagulls
I used to tread light-Lee but now Major moves snap spines and x-ray rimes sees skulls
draped around the battlefield wondering to myself at the mountaintop how
your raps would feel if they had any momentum
your rimes are paving the Road directly to your address with those intentions
flow suspension freezes your delivery and frail threads dangle in razor winds
collect Damon, Keenon Ivory and Kim and there's no Way-an mc like you can win
Bedtime crews begin transmission of the emergency broadcast
shrieking sirens pierce the skin on ear drums pleading to God last
throbbing pulses convulse in snapping brain stems
corneas catching inner glimpses of instances where the pain blends
with flamed friends psychically connected through the union of wackness
finding strength in numbers resorting to players with yourselves club tactics
warping time until acids are leaving your prose-full-of-lactics
flaming gangs by the book winning games, sets and matches
as this world ro-Tates like Little Man paddling kayaks
find your twisted witch and Ex-her-size when I-max
let's collide snaps to determine whose is most resiliant
giving your flows strobes and you still couldn't be brilliant
stripping the filament out of your militant mind set
and then put you in a coma without an iota of how to rime yet
asking Bedtime Stiffs for dopeness it's hopeless you provide Beck
leaving your com-bined threat leaking babble on the Grind's deck
putting so much rhythm in wisdom Igors are screaming "mY NecK"
looking for more braces than crooked toothed carpenters
Sons the serum rearing antibodies for Bedtime's harbinger
got that Indy Jones leaving Bedtime's hearts disturbed
tearing the velour on which you carved your verbs with telekenesis
Sankofa the man from U.N.C.L.E. named by bedtime telling you nieces
with each intelligent thesis tide pools enveloping beaches
Dead-Panning Petes in Never Never lands spaced off Pixie dust
play like Geriatric squirrels and wistfully lick these nuts
metaphorical fists need guts so Sons enter with open hands
flipscrypts and leave Dwella blinded in heaven with broken plans
destined to leave frozen glands development stunted with pituitaries
Hell feeding Stiffs flourescent markers and wait for Stiffs to become lumiaries
the roots of very evil dwell within your limited cerebral
trying desparately to prepare for tumultuous upheavel
shattering your easel scorching Stiffs for menial tasks
eternal Lamentations Bedtimes never seeing Ezekial pass
not casting pearls for swine rimes or your beastial staff

Sons the serum...
Hell Dwella:

"Da Thrashing" Hell Dwella

Blowen Sons up on deliver like a mad mail bomber//
Slicen em into bloody pieces like the psychopathic Domer//
I break all Sons Of Zadok members until they be Destitute//
And their last penny of talent gets spent on a burial suit//
When I come gunning like a Capone hit, with lyrical lead//
200 holes ventilate the dead, brains get blown str8 out da head//
As I "RED" more emcees then "FOX", comically//
They try, but they cant beat me, The highest entity Astronomically//
I shatter any porcelain fraud, run em over, hit em hard//
Out the fog owe da Mist, like Guerillas, striking quick like cobras//
"Emcees step up", They get the beat down//
6 Feet deep in the ground, with every pound//
Of this mad tight, lyrical IronMans fist//
You struck first, but you widely missed//
Now I taking all Sons Down One By One//
With lyrical Hollow tips out the magnum//
I eclipse the Son that lost its light//
As it dwelled up Sponts-Anus like a sodomite//
In Darkness, while you losing this lyrical fight//
I beat you down any day, any night//
With the third sight, of depth perception//
Its lyrical Armageddon, And the Son Annihilation//
Beat Down by the REDLINE CLICK//
Tosen em up, like a niggaz who are sick//
>From listening to their booty ass lyric's//
And hot headed attitudes, weak dialects//
So Comes REDLINE, twisting lyrical skillz like a helix//
Depicting the sons defeats with style like the hieroglyphics//
Their death be, here and now, at the landz, histrionically//
Call me, Da Lyrical Surgeon, curing hiphop by Homeopathy//
Procedures, As I "put it on" like "Big-L//
Raise freestyles hotter then hell, to cancel//
Fraud emcees, Sons Of Disease//
Got em weak in the knees, As I hit em hard with the last round of fatalities//
Got More Sting in my freestyles then a swarm full of bees//
Sons flow like a Zephyr as I twist lyrical tornadoes, like mother nature//
Sons Of Chihuahua trying to test REDLINE the lyrical lion, that break ya//
into a million, unattachable pieces like Humpty Dumpty, so theirs no rebirth//
Your pre-written is as booty as a 900 pound, deformed bitch, and equivalent in worth//
Your metaphors are repugnant, your souls are Pusillanimous//
Retroflex, Retrousse, as REDLINE comes str8, thus//
Shining with more colors then the spectrum//
Shitting lyrical Chef-d`oeuvre's out the Rectum//
quotidian//
Destroyen//
S.O.Z.//
For all eternity//

Hell Dwella: For The 97 And Beyond : REDLINE/AVI/SBF/ICU/54R/FN/REAL ARMY/
"The Return Of The Inner Fury"
Arabic Al Capone:

Never down size AAC, that would be non sense/
it's like teaching EBONICS to black student's/
i'll take away your verbal license with jus' one ticket/
cause I'm phatter then Rosie O' Donnel in a bubble jacket/
skills ya lack it/
turn down tha racket, so you can hear me/
cause y'all are dryer then Canadian History/
put you outta your missery, with out 911 to dial/
I'm bringin' more knowledge to tha dome then a Ras Kass freestyle/
and I'ma knock up more kids then a lyrical petaphile/
while y'all admit to your mistakes/
SOZ rhymes are straight Corn like Kellogs Flakes/
high stakes when I slay/
my rep be bigger then tha statistics of men smakin' there wives on Super Bowl Sunday/
straight SKILL is what I parlez/
the day I speak creole is tha day I battle a Hatian/
cause my words elevate tha mind higher then inflation/
masturbation seems to be this battles genre/
so SOZ cholk your chicken, as your right hands recieve more action then Monday night RAW/
and when I attack, it's just like Otawa, there's nothing you can do/
what a poor excuse for a crew/
you couldn't hang if you were Anna Nichol Smith's tit without a bra/
this struggle is gettin' messier then cold slaw/
and like Americas funniest home vidoes, your a flaw/
my victory is tha law, cause i'm illa/
I Ph(i)lip(ino) tha mic like Manilla/
Zadok killa, I also murda Potential Threat(s)/
cause tha name be Arabic Al Capone aka Steve Kawalit/
tha prophet of all niggas who rip it skillfully/
call me King Tut i'll have you screamin' for ya mummie/
cause your joints are more lifeless then a Sears dummy/
you can never see tha Knight's or Capone/
cause r2,spont, smooth, and breeze stink like Kmart cologne/
like multiplicity your styles are a cloan/
and like hand sowen draws you itch/
ain't REDLINE a bitch/
we niggas that which make ya swell like a hemeroid/
and our IQ's be comin' bigger then Noyd/
so avoid contact with tha KNIGHTS or you will fall/
cause were more vulgar then tha grafitti on a public washroom stall/
It's time to bounce like Pamela Anderson Lee topless on a pogo ball...


AWWWWhhhhhHHHhhhhh shit I ripped it...
dutchMasta tha Assassin:

RHYME TOPIC IS TOXIC TO SOZ LONGEVITY/ BREAK UP THEIR CREW LIKE WORDS PHON-ET-IK-LY//
style erratic/ problematic/ got emcees stuck like baloons conductin static//
automatic my flows rapid fire like machine guns/ spun webs of verses got SOZ hung//
similar to the KLAN lynchin negros/ my flows is lethal to my foes//
mic pros i turn them amateur/amateurs i turn to pee wee league - death care of dutchMasta//
undetected like malignant cancer/ i infect those who think they can smoke me//
me i smoke an emcee/ and blow em out the water like C3/ destroy them like they was jews and we NAZI//
catastrophe/ verbal massacre mass destruction of SOZ forces inevitable//
predictable/ i rip them with flows louder than the 100th decible//
incredible/ edible/ i devour the wack lyrics that SOZ gots and leave them as shit//
excreted/ repeated/ my style incresed kid/ and switch like sex change operations//
deadly like AIDS infection/ i stick emcees up for lyrics like pre sexual erection//
lock down lyrical warfare similar to convicts incarcerated in facilitites of correction//
The Rose:

Who the fuck wanna act all wise, Pentacostal?
Don't you know ya dealin with Kephus Apostle?
I get hostile with Sons who wanna try and run
Boards with their played-out rhyme and pun
I don't need to drop in my rhyme mad parentheses
It's clutter, my brotha, wannabe Mensas these
hence they seem wack when perused, I refuse
To write rhymes that are only bound to confuse
Guess what? You lose! I choose to put away
Every Zadok, like haddock, it's time to filet
Redline Click rollin stronger every instant
With my boy Hell Dwella, Militi the militant
And wannabe griots end up with cut throats
They the goats, they chance of survival's remote
Quote The Rose, everybody else does
And leave that vocab crab shit for SATs, cuz
Abiathar's revenge, Zadok's descendants cringe
I got more mysticism to my mental prism than Stonehenge
Critiscm I send to the SOZ squad
The Apostle sit on the left hand of God
And I intake knowledge to break down the wack
I take down ya back, enter your veins like smack
Smoke ya'll like crack, leave ya body intact
But your souls? Now I got six more to stack
In my collection, resurrection of the true
No longer under my protection, SOZ is through
Redline branch of The Syndicate is overpowering
And The Rose aka UNICRON devouring
The remnants of contestants in the game of Life
Ya sought to gain fame, all ya found was strife
The knife of the Apostle Kephus struck, all that's left is
Six egomaniacs, found to be wack, got ruptured by my methods
Fuck with that
dutchMasta tha Assassin:

dutchMasta bustin raps like nutts in pussy naps//
freestyle tactic only/ solely i shred up SOZ//
shredded like synthetic cheese/ shreded an SOZ emcee//
shreaded then deaded/ lyrically beheaded//
imbeded my lyrics in his dome then blew it from the in//
side out/ ripped him and changed his freestyle route//
from freestyle to PRE style. written i rip while i wile//
emcees named SOZ line up for my verbal tacitile//

versitile/ i flip my steez and got ya lyrics comin up short like a midget on his knees//
burn ya like stripped trees/ burned down ya crew dissappear like the rain forest//
at a rate of 50% a day/ for years/ im in SOZ's ass like prison inmated turned queers//
hear cheers when i enter emcees shed tears/ grow full beards/ identity masked//
but isee through ya attempt at annonymnity and still come atya full blast//
last for the full 12 rounds/ slow torture i bring pain as i inflict chinese water//
pain to the brink of insanity i bring it in verbal slaughter/ to extremem measure//

my flow complex like fabric texture/ or plaid pattern//
learn my military arsenal but as ya got tha code it turn//
burn emcees mental / mental bent and left days ago//
verbal flow twist ya brain like dreads when hair grow//
Readily Eating Da Lofty, Investigating New Emcees//
SOns of KODAK picture ya title in REDLINE handz, say cheese//
Sons tha SEMEN , sons of my semen my own children turnin BENNIDICT//
REDLINE we wage a holy war against those who are on SONS dick//

verbal structure complex i flex on a sucka emcee like a bully//
verbally i bring ruptures to your blood structure- puncture- i stick- ya stop like clot//
holey like popes gun shot/ precisely aimed with infrared dot/ on the spot//
similar to 7-up// my verse erupt/ you gotta better chance battlin DAZ and corrupt//

DAMN SANKOFA... I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO READ THAT BOOK "SOUL ON ICE" BY ELDRIDGE CLEAVER
SHIT IS MAD DEEP YO....

BEATS CHANGE SIMILAR TO MY VERSE STYLE//
ADD DISTANCE TO THIS BATTLES PAGES = MILE//
OR MORE/ IM ALMOST OUT THE DOOR AS THE LAB CLOSE//
ONE THIRTY THREE IN THE MORN READY TO SEE SOME HOES//
UH NOT FOR THIS BATTLE SO IM GONNA CHANGE ONCE AGAIN//
VENOM/ I SPIT VERBALS CEADLY WHEN I STRIKE LIKE A SERPENT//
SNAKE/ SHAKE EMCEES LIKE THE STYLES WHEN I BREAK//
HEAD SPIN/ THEN FLAIR/ NOW THERE/ BEAT THAT//
LAY EMCEES FLAT WITH DIFFERENT STEELOS//
FLOWS I CRUSH AMATUERRRS WITH MY SIMPLE CONVO//
CONVERSATION/ I BRING WRECKATION WITH NON- RAPS//
PAINFUL TO YA DOME LIKE WHEN YA BRUSHIN OUT AFRO NAPS//
BOMBED LIKE THE MU FUCCIN JAPS//

DONE FOR NOW DAMMIT.....

DIDUTCH
Hell Dwella:

"Onslaught On Sub``Terrain with a little Sons Busting Too" Hell Dwella

If the nucleus of a cell is its brain, then Sub terrain is a prokaryotic cell//
Trying to take me out without a battle plain, As I shoot with precision like William Tell//
On point when I take a snipers aim, out the optic lens and fire//
With a defensive perimeter set, that slices intruders like barb wire//
Its The Hell Dwella Solvent dissolving the Sub terrain Solute//
With lyrical acid, Sub terrain comes apart like a sky diver with out a parachute//
When hitting ground Zero, with the force of 500X light//
Sons Of Sodomites couldn't even win a lyrical fight//
Against a deaf man, with no mouth, on his death bed//
Sub Terrain shoots ice, that turns to water when near REDLINE who shoots lyrical lead//
That leaves all opponents ice cold dead//
Or incinerated into ashes, blown away by twisting lyrical Tornadoes//
REDLINE Hits another victory on the road to destroying all its foes//
Hanging Sons Of Frauds like niggaz by their toes//
Filling their mouths like bitch ass hoes, leaving the truth exposed//
For all to see, that the Sons, And Rizla can be beat//
For at the mighty hands of REDLINE they have just seen defeat//

"Love to the whole hiphop nation"
Hell Dwella: REDLINE CLICK: RL/RA/FN/ICU/AVI/SBF/54R
SubtaReign:

Redline green like conifers plus fallin like decidious
Gettin vigorous, no edge but still past like precipice
A novel idea y'all rhymin while u reppin ficticious
A battlist plus pragmatist turned to this protagonist
Acts as a catylst for the centrific of the axis,
Head-spinnin planets, ya mind becomes my canvas
Y'all need practice, useless like a misplaced Atlas
The Hip-Hop Seraphims gotcha actin slow like terrapins
King-pin clears pig-pens, more mighty than the Quinn
Wackness comin in excess like rhymes from Hella and DBS
Sons got this battled covered like a vest to ya chest
Bitchin? must be the PMS, but y'all couldnt reach the Maxi
Padded with psionic abilties which extends our proximity
No worry, ya rhymes may be lengthy, but have no quality
Represent all seven of the spectrum with five bredren
Sons, the serum, by referendum, Redline left in sections
Hell Dwella:

"The B-Smooth Massacre: Sister Gizz Style" Hell Dwella

Yeah Yeah Yeah, Hellz O Yeah, check it......

Bitch always on my nut Like REDLINE groupies (S.O.Z.'s)//
"Dick Sucking", after cum to fill their ovaries//
And Procreate some Real Lyricists inside their womb//
Cuz their present skillz surely equal their doom//
Demise, as they materialize, before everyones eyes//

Flip B-Smooths sister Retro-flex on contacts//
As I split her lips wide open like wood with an axe//
Spread her tights wider then a 1000 pound bitch//
Run up that wet pussy like a Ram, causing a glitch//
In her circuitry, as she freaks it on tip, Crazy smooth, on da D//
Helix, I twist(her)er like George, an pump her full of extacy//
As she begs for more, I trust the slut harder, till she bleeds all over my cock//
Like Lulapuluza with 1 million metal fans, back and forth, every which way she rocks//
Turning more hand movement then Clocks, I grab the bitches breast//
And Give em licks like a mad man gangsta gunner, to punks in the chest//
Then I pierce the flesh with the snakes teeth, and draw the neckta of a demon//
And turn her into a goddess, the ugly duckling to a beautiful faun//
The impure pure with one touch of a lyrical god//
She yells slow down, nah, keep pumping hard//
Blood flowing like the Nile River//
Fertile banks my cock massaging as I give it to her//
Making her day a lot brighter like a Hallmark Card//
As she be at the highest level of pleasure screaming out, "O Lord"//
"B-Smooth could never give it to my moms like this"//
"Erotically, Euphorically, Intoxicating me, your a true lyricist"//
"Hell Dwella et Dominus", O shat, I gizz all up in her wet fucking dripping wide Cunt//
2 millions soldiers strong procreate anther Son Of Redline, then I Spark up a blunt//
Give the bitch some, cuz she was such a freak, in flexin the technique//
Puff for a while, pass it back, then I lick all the blood of her chest//
Kiss her lips, bite the bottom one, draw more blood, then mentally infest//
As I kick the sweet lines, The ReDLiNeS, then pull out the buck knife, and slice her hand//
Then slice mine, and join them in a hold, my blood makes the soul pure to the grain of sand//
Ingested in your digestive organs, Then leave the room, for I did my part and taxed that ass//
Never show a bitch too much love, no mercy, or sympathy, so I give the whole Click a pass//
Of CRAZYsmooth Sex, 300 dicks latter, the bitch, bleeds to death//
And utters the words "Hell Dwella -N- REDLINE CLICK Your the Best", with her last breath//

Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah O Yeah Hell Yeah, O Yeah,,,,,yeah....bitch
Hell Dwella: REDLINE CLICK: 97 To Beyond
Emsey Leb:

My last rhymes of this five day war and battle
Keep's SOZ up like they're sleepless in Seattle
I won't slack off though, I'll just wait until you back off
Rythem nation sensation, I can see you janet jack-off
Yeah, SOZ be producing wack ass sounds
And like that syndrome, REDLINE be gettin' DOWN
You hidin' in alleys, lookin' like a skinny cat
With weak rhymes, I hold isht in like a jimmy hat
Gimme that mic 'cuz SOZ ain't got no reasonin'
KNIGHTS fright you turn white like milk of magnesium
SOZ's almost done with, all they need is some seasonin'
SOZ be gettin' mad, they be steamin' like a kettle
You get no awards bcuz I can cancel your medal
Like Hansel and Grettle, I'm a push ya in the oven
And let you burn in the flames, man I'm lovin'
all of this
okay?
okay?
okay?
I drop what I got now with nothin' on lay-away
You've seen my accuracy, like Hakeem on a fade-away
And then I drink your ass up like you were some Gatorade
A fly in my bowl of soup is what the waiter gave
I say to my man Dave, "Yo, I'll catch you later Dave"
At faster rate's I gave my maskin' tape to slaves
Arabic writing, like on Ralph Nader's grave
In the cave, you can't even see the REDLINE
Let you SONZ go to sleep it's way past bedtime
You best check your head when you hear Emsey Leb rhyme
Chew off your leg and drink the blood up like red wine
To all mankind, SOZ crumbles like crackers
SOZ attacker make you lose like the Packers
I come rough like how the fur of a goat feel's
My isht tastes good,
BUT IT'S NOT OATMEAL!!!

Jus' Fo' Fun
(I think REDLINE won)
Breeze:

Mental visions remotely transfer to oppos headz through incisions
My Precision Tunin' more stations than VHF and cable transmissions
Holdin' Redline in position, preventin' any forward momentum
'Til submission, elbows off the top rope as if Macho Man sent 'em
Make you bounce to the suspension my diction flips your jurisdiction
Bringin' friction, your sci-fi matiennes picture us victims
But in the Solar, hittin' hard wit scrolls that per-Plexes
Usin' visual flags so you Drag Queens can get the message
Parenthetical statements are Man-datory for you boys
MTV coined it un-plugged, so you just talkin' all that noise
Makin' it obvious, your lackin' comprehension and inference
These skillz define the major Sonz and R.C. difference
For instance, check your man Hell Dwella for reference
Used intricate means but that's okay he's one of Click's residents
So when you open your Case provide sufficient evidence
Don't touch me and tease me then come without rhyme excellence
So I declare exodus to your thought conceptions
Redline can't come right even wit Sonz as contraseptives...

Epilogue

Sons of Zadok continue to effortlessly deploy members of Redline
back to SOZ' Training Camp for the Lyrically Challenged. Breeze
returns to the armory for yet ANOTHER change in weaponry for the
final skirmish...
Hell Dwella:

"BreeZe Killing" Hell Dwella

"Alram.....aaaaaaaaa..False Image Detected"

Breeze androgynous, Half The Man I AM//
Brusting Bubbles Busting heads with a lyrical grand Slam//
Like Donald From Exodus to the four regions of the Globe//
I explore the dimensions of my opponents mind like a probe//
then find their weakness, and strike with no mercy//
For any emcee who test me, I got no sympathy//
Just raw pain, For to test is a suicidal mission by another Cobain//
AHHHHHHHHH KABBBOOOOMM, Cyclone style//
The effects of my lyrical twisters devastate emcees turnen em like dial//
360 degrees, hunt em like the "Trooper With lyrical Luggers"//
And the Zephyr Breeze be all anxious, not assiduous//
cuz his lyric's be egregious, and he be discourteous//
And Fatuous, thus, Tenuous, hideous, thus its Unanimous//
REDLINE plus Hell Dwella, equals the Sons plus Breezes annihilation//
Obliteration, For The lyrical RED-LION (line) is insidious to any emcee who is impious//
they just be inauspicious, cuz REDLINE will insaluluous, when bumptious//
Fake emcees (S.O.Z.) Cant handle us, we bust em, thrust em, with death blows//
Pertinacious, with lyrical skillz, endogenous to us, fake emcees beware, cuz we are deleterious//
And Arduous, taking out emcees who harm hiphop, for my love for hiphop//
will never ever stop, and the quest will continue, till wackness, is stopped//
Therefore its REDLINE with the Subconscious message to the hiphop nation//
And Breezes Cremation, In The Name Of Hiphop Purification, and Ultimate Unification//

"False Images De-Imaged Into Nothingness"
Hell Dwella: REDLINE CLICK Da Lyrical RED LION
97 to beyond.....love out to the Bounty Huntaz
Hell Dwella:

"Word Schematics" Hell Dwella: REDLINE CLICK

REDLINE, Untried, Untouched, unbeaten, untrod, untrodden//
SONS, fetter, unrest, dysphoria, inquietude, fluster, flustration//
REDLINE, strike, onslaught, blitz, blitzkrieg, invasion, incursion//
dragonnade, inroad, descent, foray, maraud, escalade, irruption//
SONS, exigency, urgency, pressingness, emergency//
hazard, peril, threat, jeopardy, insecurity//
REDLINE, perilous, parlous, precarious, viperous//
SONS, feeble, frail, infirm, sheepish, wan, nambypambious//
helpless, impotent, impuissant, lymphatic, languorous//
languid, lackadaisical, listless, enervated, lassitudinous//
REDLINE, homicidal, bloodguilty, slaughterous//
internecine, sanguinary, virulent, deadly, lethiferous//
SONS, crucifixion, execution, immolation//
REDLINE, revel, exult, enchant, congratulation//
SONS, see, vanquishment, checkmate, discomfiture, subversion//
rout, subdual, subjugation, "hiphop Purification"//
Fall Onto them...REDLINES next Victim//

For The Love Of The Hiphop Nation, and True Emcees WorldWide!
ICU/SBF/54R/RL/FN/RA/AVI/ and a special dapz to Da Head HuntaZ

"The Eyes Of The Man Who Looks In The Mirror Sees His Minds Perception"
Hell Dwella: ShaBaZ TroopaZ: REDLINE CLICK 97 to Beyond
B-Smooth:

Half-ass destruction of a half-assed crew (yes, it's a freestyle).

Wasting words on you would be a calethstetic in futility
Your crew's lacking abilities to comprehend or deal with me
Soliloquies destroying your structural frame with ease
Thoughts sequentially swarming like a disease from killer bees
Stinging your cerebal section with deadly inflections
Infections spreaded by your plauge of wack rhymes receives injection
Verbal weapons making intersections through mental disection
You know you gonna die like Magic's wife without protection
Treating your crew of parasites just like their name was Stanley
The day you beat me's the day when little Richard's labeled manley

I'm out. We already won the battle so it ain't like I gotta try or nothin'.
I gotta life, unlike y'all.

Sons the serum...
Hell Dwella:

"R2G2 De-Funking" Hell Dwella

R2G2 Stop the perpetration, I gotz no toleration//
For a emcee who gots no elevation to his alliteration//
False Reputation, built on Ass Penetration//
Trying to find a path to hiphop Domination//
But REDLINE here to dead you and this S.O.Z. Situation//
Got you down in the death lock behind incarceration//
In this Confrontation, The Fight for hiphop purification//
With the REDLINE Vaccination, spelling the Sons Of Disease elimination//

Sons Feel Accentuate, they hiphop adulterate//
turning it defecate, therefore REDLINE detonate//
To Decimate, Obliterate, Decapitate, Annihilate//
Devastate, with lyrical heat so hot it incinerates//
R2G2 and his false crew on first contacts, its fate//
I take R2G2 cut out his false image projecting tongue, and mutilate//
Him, cutting out his heart and eating it raw, da red lion, vicious, propitiate//
operating on emcees who imitate, simulate a crew who wears a mask, they impersonate//
The ora of a real emcee crew, but are as phony as Milli Vinilli, they illustrate//
A Picasso but when De-Imaged they show their true colors, Green is their triate//
They lost their love for hiphop long ago, its unfortunate//

When REDLINE is through with Sons Of Zadok they all in need of hospitalization//
Cut up with lacerations, from the sharpness of the lyrical skillz, REDLINE displays without hesitation//
To dead all the false images inhabiting the hiphop nation, standing against unification//
I personal beat them till they black and blue in coloration//
Yeah feel it the wrath of a real emcee, that stands for hiphop purification//
Coming strong with mad tight verbalization, I bringing R2G2, and his whole crews extermination//
Lyrical Elevation, Heart Determination, mental manifestation, Lyrical alliteration, levitation, and acceleration, puts a stop to the Sons infiltration, with facilitation//

OOOOOOOOOOOOO------YEAH, Sons Of Disease.....YEAH
Hell Dwella: REDLINE CLICK: 97 to Beyond Baby........
Hell Dwella:

"The Crushing Of Spont-Anus, with a Son hit too " Hell Dwella

Following Emile Zola's believes, I take out the impure products of the hiphop environment//
With lyrical acid, dissolving Spontanus into the smallest fragment of an element//
Glucose + Oxygen -----> Carbon + Water + (ATP), raw energy//
>From the dead, that feeds the fire of this merciless REDLINE army//
Activating, warfare, membrane engulfs fake emcees, "Endocytosis"//
Blood runs out the body as the sharp lyrical teeth penetrate, picked up by pinocytosis//
Striking poleaxe, splitting Melons like a Jamaican with a cutlass//
Taking out Sons Of Zadok with the wrath, and their families with the aftermath//
Even your talisman, nor faith will save your life, when I rip out your thorax//
You die instantly, As I perma frost that ass with fear, as I come at you with the attack//
Like Assyrians raged at the rape of their kings daughter, With the onslaught slaughter//
Decapitating your head from your shoulders, a trophy for my mantel, REDLINE the victor//
In this lyrically confrontation, between the Da RED LION and the Sons//
Concluding the end of this Bloody Saga, called lyrical Armageddon//
The first round was close, but then in the rest of the rounds all Sons fell//
And now the war is won, and the Sons can burn in hell//
As my lyrical bitches, For all eternity//
REDLINE CRUSHING THE SONS was MEANT TO BE//
For its Destiny//

Hell Dwella: REDLINE CLICK
Much Love To I.C.U, and all the Females, and real emcees supporting hiphop
Hell Dwella:

"Sankofa Decimation, Da Bomb" Hell Dwella

Hell Dwella the hot side of Mercury, Sankofa the cold//
Full of hot air like Venus, lost in the Clouds//
As I spin freestyle's of the tip like the Earths Rotation//
Taking the life you once pocessed like Mars with habitation//
Swinging Swords Of Verbal Dialects larger then Jupiter, The Red Strom//
As I irradiate raging heat from my core like Saturn, as I just getting warm//
Bringing you down from Uranus with intense Gravity//
Which Be, 7000 Km wide, from Sporting Sub's Terrain up your Anal Cavity//
Bringing Ice Cold Lyric's to a battle, showing no mercy, or sympathy//
Procreating Large Lyrical Ice Storms Like Neptune, -200 below zero on the average//
I erode your style down to the size of Pluto and further down, on my lyrical rampage//
Killing more fake emcees then Infant mortality in U.S.S.R.(CIS)//
Emcees, and Crews test but they all fall like a star//
Cast from the heavens by a lyrical god//
Discovering, and eliminating another porcelain Fraud//
I devour more fakes then the consumption rate of North America//
Slaying Hotter lyric's then the Green House Emission percent average in Australasia//
Turning The imitator Sankofa to Desert Dust, with this killer Lyrical Thrust//
Cutting him down with greater acceleration then the Deforestation of the Rainforest//
As he falls not being able to tolerate lyrical heat like a Coniferous Forest//
Intra molecular forces are destroyed, breaking S.O.Z. Covalent, Ionic, and Polar Bonds//
By REDLINES Intermolecular Forces, emitting charges to cancel the electrons//
With positivity, S.O.Z. Oxidations, REDOX, Oxygen lost from the Sons Lungs, Reaction, Reduction//
As REDLINE re-fines lyric's so sharp they act in Hydrolysis reactions//
splitting molecules into two With the H2O (flow), As opponents freeze like a naked Eskimo//
Melting em down, like Solar Magnetic Storms, With bright Sun Spots//
Radiation emissions released, with interstellar gases, from the Dust Lanes, which Blocks//
Fake Emcees (Sankofa) from hiphop, like Radiation from reaching the planet Earth//
REDLINE Lyrical Solar Winds, Volcanic eruptions, increase UV rays causing atmospheric warming, opponent rotting, no rebirth//
Sub Terrains Mountain Ranges try to block the REDLINE heat, but they are powerless against this natural Force//
So they flea in horror to join R2G2, Breeze, and let nature take its corse, but before Sankofa, and Spont-Anus could escape they became a corpse//
As for B-Smooth, he is crying for CRAZYsmooth, while Fucking his momz, and gets HIV, from his mother who pimps on the side//
So REDLINE didn't even have to melt down B-Smooth, his own family done him in, Now the cemetery is the only place B-Smooth Resides//
But Hell Dwella's Elliptical Orbit Precession melted his B (butter) before he died//
Historian Herodotus, proclaims, REDLINE Destroyed Sons Of Zadok when these two entities Collided//
Like Apes Fucking up the Anus From Behind, Sons tried to sneak up on REDLINE, then Da RED LION (redline) Turned and cut em up, with one swift swing of the claw//
Defeating them like Canadians did taking Vimy Ridge in France from the Germans in 1917, a victory without a flaw//
RED DRAGONS breathing lyrical fire, running things like P'an Ku//
Attacking With the Shallon Styles Of Swordsman From The Wu//
Breaking the Sons Hold on hiphop like Spartacus, fighting off slavery//
REDLINE is a major crew holding strong like the Religion Christianity//
Accepted As the First lyrical gods like Ra, Taking fakes spirits away like Ka//
To the other side, Info-red Eyes Track down those who Dwell in the dark, as they try to hide//
Its REDLINE as Hyksos, taking Control from the pre-Dispositioned Crew that Refuses to give props when they do//
Hell Dwella, Akhenaten, From the Valley Of The Kings, To the Battle Turf, destroying Sons,
with Lyrical Jit-Zu//
Off Writing them, like Egyptians to papyrus, Making the kill like a Bounty Hunter, Removing their organs in mummification, and placing them in a Canopic Jar//
For Consumption at a letter date, The S.O.Z. and Sankofa Are No-More, never will these Hoity- toity niggaz ever see another Lyrical war//

REDLINE CLICK: HELL DWELLA: O----YEAH, BOOOOM
Taking Charge....no doubt........97 to beyond: Now Sons Who's The Best
Sankofa:

Sons' talk shows Redline OD on ells like Rosie Neiling in prayer for the Jets
moving full steam ahead while Clicks plan in 3/4 time spans of minuets
this intellect rejecting thinner threats than Mahmoud screaming from minarets
methodically decapitating your dreams of lyrical lotteries
ad-dressing paper cut-outs with fake souls pinning steps
like orthopedic acupuncture begin tourettes
laid out Hor-nets catch Clicks tr(ying)-angle offenses unable to Winter
lessons stressed and into Tex
taking it to Redlines like the IRS when the Foxx begins to rest
mathematically levels above equivalent to Incan steps
shaking down your family trees and leaving mad limbs in stress
Sons leave Redline dangling like suicidal participles
Hell claimed he wanted beef when all Sons have done is spar with cripples
lashing out at Redlines liek RuPaul extensions after weed sessions
trying to take I ON a QUEST is simply out of the question
Hell Dwella campaigns get term limit applications rejection sets in after elections
Sons smash with six sticking sick riffs making Clicks quiver like archery
talking more Jazz than the Mailman in Mingus Baselines with Stets-on/remarkably
DBS couldn't be on the next isht with Nostradamus' intestines
squared eyes on the prize get consolations from abominable misdirections
Sons Cap-one crew with one line weak metaphors get dis reflections
talking more isht than twelve proctologist conventions
shallow septic tanks can't even back it up getting dishonorable mentions
Sons putting Redline soles on ice like Bootsy sizing O'shea for new kicks
leaving Samurais and Click Warriors in Golden States like Midas swimming through piss
cubing square styles from the roots with radicals while Sons drag
coefficients switching more styles than Ru's-bics
attempts at beating colons semi conscious are hopeless attempts to bruise isht
O-h Redline's 2 deprived fetal stages with mothers sneaking sniffs from glue sticks
dropping more points than castrati Sons escape from New York Clicks left a group of You-Knicks
Sons of Zadok runs through more Forrests of Redlines than movie books and no Whit-akkers
claiming to get down and dirty when your styles are whole-sum like integers

and on that note, Redline Click is out like open air taps recitals...

Sons the serum...
Hell Dwella:

"HiSToRiCaL FleXaTioNS" Hell Dwella

The Saga: The Intro

Blaze Owe Da Redline, tells the historic tale//
Of the greatest net battle, which REDLINE did prevail//
With great lyrical force, tells Thucydides//
REDLINE had the whole S.O.Z. crew on their knees//
Before the last blow of decapitation//
Swung by Hell Dwella's Sword for hiphop purification//
And the Love for hiphop in the heart of the courageous//
REDLINE CLICK fights pure and therefore always shall sedulous//
Leading the path for the righteous//

The Saga: The Battle

"It Went Down Like This" (Heltah Skeltah Cut)

The Call of REDLINE challenged the Sons who were Pusillanimous//
Hiding in the dark behind their name, with their high head egos//
Actinin, Aduanople, Issus, Mycale, Trsimene, Philippi//
Pharsalus, Zama, Zela, Arbela, Plantaea, Aegospotami//
Landz Dungeon, Battle arena set, for the confrontation//
REDLINE vs Sons Of Zadok, Hell Dwella, Vs Sankofa//
Fires rage with fierceness from within the soldiers in this saga//
Hannibal, Hasdrubal, Camillius, Marcellus, Lucullus, Agrippa//
Catulua, Hamilcar, Scripo Africanus, Pompey, Odoacer, Attila//
Imperator, Generals round up the two mighty infantries//
To fight for what they believe, and lyrical supremacies//
Great titles like Alexander, Cambyses, Cleomenes, Cleopatra, Croesus//
Clisthenes, Cyrus, Jocasta, Leonidas, Xerxes, Porus, Menalaus, Darius//
Priam, Traquin, Theodosian, Tiberius, Trajan, Constantine, Decius//
Alaric, Ariovistus, Augustus, Octavian, Aurelian, Romulus Augustulus//
Cutiline, Dioceletian, Dominitian, Gaiseric, Hadrian, Julian, Commodus//
Our among the victors of this confrontation, one step closer to hiphop purification//
And Eventual Unification, Lyrical Swords of REDLINE raise high like//
Aeneas, Horatius, Cocles, Scaevala, Archilles, Herachles, Blessed by Nike (goddess of Victory)//
Treating the threatening Disease in Hiphop Called the S.O.Z. like Erasistratus//
Hitten Sons With death blows, and soundly structured lyrical freestyles like Vitruvius//
Sons fall to the ground and beg for mercy, with propaganda tactics//
But mercy is not shown to niggaz who aren't even fit to suck dicks//
Of True lyricists, which strike with force out the midst of the mist//
With Lyrical venom, to kill all wack emcees who test Da REDLINE Phenomenon//
That fights for all the real heads who got mad skills, that may be new to the net//
Original heads still get props, but just cuz they have a name, doesn't mean they have paid their debt//
The fight continues, the struggle moves on, and so does the quest//
REDLINE CLICK in 97 leaves fake emcees maimed and messed//
The Prophets proclaim, and so does the Delphi Oracle//
Redline got skillz, flip, twist lyrical skillz, 360 degrees full circle//
Awarded the title "Dominus" by the fierce Ares//

The Saga: The Outro

And this concludes the epic tale of the greatest battle on the net//
The stakes were high, the casualties were numerous, and bloody when these two forces met//
But light shone down on the pure, and REDLINE was Blessed//
Showing Mad Skillz, quality, and quantity, and prevailing in the test//
and Achieving the first step in the quest//
Proving undisputedly they are the best//
Because they got mad skillz, and aren't afraid to make the killz//
on the fake, and by force they take out any opposition//
To hiphop purification, or hiphop unification//

REDLINE CLICK: HELL DWELLA: 97 to beyond
REDLINE/RL/SBF/AVI/54R/FN/ICU
Much Love to All The Females Representing the hiphop nation, and Much Love to the whole damn hiphop nation..no doubt!
dutchMasta tha Assassin:

mad personality complex

dutchMasta vs dutchMasta

chorus: dutch vs dutch

playin game with name i bring pain to emcees and crush they fame
battle with REDLINE end in shame- mental examinations reveal they went insain
still havin nightmares of REDLINE hauntin they dreams thin tight like laser beams
im cuttin through the toughest material like wolverines adamantium
lyrics repeatedly beat like native americans playin war drum

war drum for like war paint my warfare cause emcees like females to faint
faint lyrics faint i barely see cuzz they barely see me- lyrically
like GOD spiritually- if this was gun fight SOZ would end up holey
swiss cheese would envy SOZ steez

steez?? or is it the lack off
SOZ lost like the other black glove
and the one we got dont fit
lyric like i spit nasty like shit
while SOZ just shit and booty
thick and pretty like a female cutie
lyrically crayzie for no reason
life sentence is SOZ punishment for treason
oops lookin back i said crayzie as in bone back
thats cuzz SOZ come at REDLINE is plain wack
no chance for survival after my verse
construction i spit with no reherse
snatched ya title like a criminal takin you bitchez purse

curse without i rhyme backwords cuzz my words come back
attack like repeated beatdowns cuzz of the skillz you lack
skills without em you equal noone/ you overrun like drugs in the slum
run over like road kill / lyrically ill/ im coughin *cough
laughin at futile attempts to hold down ya title verse redline
lines red end in flat / like the project roofs
im drinkin down SOZ lyrics as they weak proofs
of less than 50 % / while im the pure mint
like breath/ smoke emcees similar to a pyro meth
emcees scared to battle for fear of death

to be cont.
SubtaReign:

Left divided like sects, on point like minarets on mosques
Didnt stop, crossed a thin-line, call redline dental floss
Tossed like lettuce, Redline masochistic with a fetish
Send Gods of War back to Mars, rhymes divine like avatars
Strung like guitars, played like stoners are Confused and Dazed
Razed ya whole phase with essays that fade like closin scenes
Act dramatic, but my wide-lense cleanse ya end pristine
Dreams broken, nothin but token resistance when we outdistance
Ya stank ranks to the think-tanks, betta ask for forgivance
In sequence, with more frequence than histograms
But most posts make no sense so most dont give a damn
Bring Helta Skelta to the Hella when we start the swelter
And the DOC couldn't do it better than Sons...the predator
A depth charge for ya barge when the Sub's going marine
Resubmerge with skillz to splurge, done like Montezuma's team
Pack a patriot to sack ya wack compatriates with a matrix
Back to basics, y'all fake it, so Hip-Hop Seraphims takin it

Sons ... The Serum
mc2:

alright i'll attack even though my heart ain't in it,
i'm still shinin whether or not we win this,
point is,
we had the balls to bring it, the minds to compete,
i be four corners and a mass of 90 degree angles to make this square complete,
permanent as concrete,
and RL vs SOZ is another way to spell DEFEAT.
no doubt both crews brought it lyrically,
especially,
my crew...
and most notably me.
no ego trippin i speaks truth like preacher men,
im the educator, an mc, a teacher of men,
the hip hop disinfector,
hip hop nation illegal alien defector,
put my lasers set to kill and my shields to full deflector,
i was born battle ready with mind control enhancements,
this battle may not be won with,
all offensive advancements,
or raidings of encampments,
do you know which way this flow is going cause i truly do not,
it has gotten way out of my control,
too hot to handle a bit too cold to hold. . .
this is the painful hammerlock hold,
the rigidity of a injection mold,
im the poker of mc's, make them all fold.
this flow is irreverant, unorthodox and a bit hard to understand,
it is locking up my mind, but moving my hands,
across the keyboard keys,
to the eyes of any m'fer who wants to see this ,
i am the denier of any mcx who wants to be this,
to feast on this. . .
im contemplating, dropping affilitations and just holdin my own,
no loss of respect,
i just do better all alone,
this is a confusing time to change, in the middle of a battle,
i just can't go on preachin to gangsta rap cattle,
the non-thinking conformists,
cannot and do not deserve this,
keep them in their ignorance to enjoy their bliss,
i gently apply the death kiss,
the freezer of spines,
the master of cerebellums,
mind contolling m'fer got mc's doin what i tell em,
the ycome so shitty, my stuffed up nose can smell em,
this is less a battle rhyme and more of a plea,
i really want no more conflict between crews of mc's,
what ever happened to just flowin to flow,
to get your two cents in,
now its all about inflation and m'fers wishin to cash in,
i'm longing for just str8 up exchange of ideas and ideals,
lettin m'fers know thoughts, feelings, prides and fears,
this has gotten way out of any hand,
too big to conceive,
this is too un-
to believe,
that equals unbelievable,
too decievable,
and beliebe me any crew is defeatable,
that last point is crucial,if not vital to all memory banks,
any crew can come live on another,
its all about who's got the fuel in the tanks,
and who shoots live rounds and not blanks,
and which god is smilin on you for you givin thanks.
this is gettin so deep, the pressure is changin,
the thoughts and shit in my crowded mind are reaaranging,
im feeli nthis flows potential to be amazing,
and eyebrow raising.
to be blunt, honest and truly frank,
i was not down with this battle from the start,
i'm being pulled in too many directions,
to give this all my heart and/or my soul,
my mind is flyin in too many directions,
lately i can't control,
all diastoles and systoles,
it is a challenge typin thoughts, or leavin messages,
im searchin for mental peace like explorers for northwest passages,
i don't know what has posessed me to come so philosophic,
i am wondering why i chose this as a battle topic, this is the 11th hour, i better get off it.

mc2.
Sankofa:

Sons shake down Redlines like Santa at employee appreciation parties
praying to your moms for birdchests hoping it'l make your lungs fly
state different areas of expertise and still disease mc-z with one try
Redline Clicks come with more X-Cuses than Orangemen alumni
while Sons break with 409's and rimes Redlines continue trends of fungi
with rimes remaining mediocre at least until your funds die
seeing if Redlines'l win-Re:no when Zadok Raines on Renegades
full circle karma movements can't be stalled by retrogrades
rugged and raw like Ol Dirty dipping ill twists in disco
Hell looking above with nothing underneath speech leaks under the limbo
stooping lower than midgets with prozac withdrawls on the veranda fidgeting with ropes
you've got Sethro's gassing your heads wearing DARE shirts saying that the
Click's shit's dope
with so much politiking and losing you're bound to be plugging Visas
denying you got your ass whipped claiming temporary amnesia
man leave the shield of ignorance behind only death becomes you
supposed master-pieces more like Fisher Prize puzzle fiends outdone by
what one Son drew
with thumbnail sketches
Sons lock it down so the only Freeman is balling in Texas
Sons annex this and realize Redline's so wack ima have PeeWee read your eulogy
and then ima bring in Mark Jones from the NBA Today to do the replay
while you're dropping intellect from Reader's Digests and dimestore novels
Sons take it to the next gear using your windpipe for the throttle
your rimes are so damn ugly you need to get some beauty hibernation
step without Damon Flint with loose thoughts and leave your cipher blazed in
conceptions let's role play i'm-mac-u-late whore respect has yet to be payed in
my man Spontaneous needs direction like Scorsesse in a bakery
while Sons present more punchlines than Judy pulling double shifts in
metal plants you dabble in hollow fakery
heads investing in Click wins takes more leaps of Faith than Evens every forth year
Sons up the ante going back in time to smoke with Diogenes
while weak Redline comedies fan more flames than Calgary spectators
phantasm assassin fly thought slurp crimson with Click head chasers
getting cold cocked like necropheliac nymphos
Lucifer's looking for your soul but kaliedescopes broke your windows...

Sons the serum...
dutchMasta tha Assassin:

dutchMasta starring himself

cont. from last week.. i forgot what the show was about
but o well

death enters your body from contact with redline army soldiers
SOZ think they can defeat a real crew, need to wake up drinkin FOLDGERS
i see SOZ risin from the bed drool flowin down the face
nightmares of REDLINE enemies surroundin em and blowin they lyrics to deep space
while SOZ gay like perverts wearin satin and lace

SOZ catch the full caliber of my lyrics as i cock backs
similar to INI emcees fakin jax/ lyrics runny like drinkin ex-lax
fake like biggie smalls and lil kim's dreams of bein hoe's and macks
dreams with no basis/ i crush SOZ like my knowledge when i deal with a racist
lyrical battery/ you need a recharge/ similar to energizer im goin
no stop - try to catch deep metaphors im throwin
slow-in down- i break - down - emcees- like - michael jor-dan takin ya to the hole

hole as in prison SOZ on mental lockdown
incarceration
like constapation ya shit aint comin around
comin down
fallin down
it stopped and backed up got ya sick
like AIDS dick
destruction of SOZ nation
quick similar to premature ejaculation
discarded lyrics like period and ovulation
its that time of the MONTH
the time for SOZ to be removed with the old maxi
driven to hell -like a drunk New York City taxi
im catch mad wrecks
freestyle new styles i conceive like sex

almost done


dutchMasta
Spontaneous aka Z-Nth:

····man ya'll should have just stuck with your original wack style. Ya'll
just embarrassed yourselves by trying to bring the metaphors. Seriously,
don't ya re-read your isht before ya send it? Damn.


you pitiful status obsessors apply more useless principals than Joe Clark predecessors/
unexpectedly t(hese)-eli(te)-phone(tical) lines shatters the dreams of wanna-be SOZ successors/
can't you even drop ONE metaphor in this whole battle that's better than my worst?/
morticians couldn't preserve the appearance of "live" in your rhymes, your style needs re-hearse-d/
no need for funeral arrangements, you've already been buried by lyrical Armageddon/
we're endin' your claims of comin-off-the-head, see Sons are the ones doin' the beheadin'/
your Never Endin' Stories are pure fantasy, more Fan-tastic than DeNiro/Snipes NBA promos/
you're so damn wack you STILL can't fuck shit up with a entire crew of homos/
Sons are handin' out more beat-downs than depressed cops on foot patrols/
claim to be professionals but ya couldn't come clean in decontaminated confessionals/
Sons processionals parade past Redlines entire 50,000 member battalion/
ya'll couldn't get down listening to Bush Babies latest album (Gravity) while on Valium/
Dru shoulda made separate sites, cuz ya'll don't even deserve to be on the same board as a Son/
I've brought my style down 1000 levels so you'll understand just how bad your gettin done/
Hella's cryin about how no one appreciates you, the muthafucka should stick to politics/
I freak more lines than a sold-out carnival sideshow, "step right up", I'm givin free ass-kicks/
layin more bricks for our success than Shaq from 10 feet with your foul-line portrayals/
ya'll couldn't put out nothin' dope stocking shelves during pharmaceutical sales/
riding our Coat(es)-tails to recognition, but fake hip-hop Patriots get their -soe(l)'s Bled-/
givin' you bitches men(s)t(ru)al writers cramps and your vaginal flows still aren't re(a)d·/

Sons the serum·


nahh fuck it, i ain't even done with these fools yet·


you Red-men couldn't smoke the mic Noble-y with Reggie's help and an acetylene lighter/
the star-board wack sub-sider, puttin more Red-necks in Hazard than John Schneider/
your Cruisin' for a bruisin' like DeAngelo with .30 blood alcohol level and ruptured blood cells/
my rep swells, while you infidels couldn't bring phatness to the table with Jenny Craig's dinner bells/
Jezebels fronting as emcees, try and "Do It Well" but take more L's than Cool J acting critiques/
Catacomb microphone techniques flip more off the head extensions than urban hair boutiques/
our Ill-i(a)d is the Achilles heel of T.hese R.edline O.perators Y.earning for unwarranted respect/
it's HARDer for you TO EARN props than Guru with laryngitis, watch me ignite this dialect/
attempts to resurrect hip-hop went unappreciated so now I'm content with your annihilation/
you awoke my battle skills from hibernation so I'm bear-ying (burying) ya with vocalization/
Spontaneous conflagration, searing mics and reps with even breaking a sweat/
ya knew that all 6 SOZ chambers were loaded but ya still wanted to play Russian roulette/
our poetics pirouette with more Witt than Katerina reciting limericks in a centrifuge/
ya musta mistook intellect for ego, my mental is why my head seems so fuckin huge/
seek refuge, ya couldn't get this vocally physical if ya turned your head and started coughin'/
absorbing all your pussy flows like kitty-litter so consider this the final nail into your coffin! /

now THAT is rhymin'

Sons the serum·
Back 2 The Battle Archives

[sral]

looooooooooooool trap this shit old as FUCK

how is this even archived?

[trap]

I think this is actually on The Rose's old angelfire website as well. But yeah, props to the Wayback Machine. I only wish Sethro didn't erase everything from his site. He was the original David Lama.

[Saint]

Any old Sethros verses? I never found anything on way back...

Sankofa

making the atlas adapt to new lands i've created
wish i would have hibernated through rap's crisis stages
the ice me ages, contagious to the point of viruses
wise voice advises kids standing poised in Iversons
with poignant asides, i bend the words taken for granted
swingsets and playground frames abandoned, maimed and supplanted
with fame and the transit paid for by weakened people's needs
first chapter is moving crack, leaving a sequel of grief
evil in reach, enfeebled as teeth decay, addiction eats away
deeper, blades dig into defenseless flesh as Jesus saves
bullets don't even graze, they plunge into relatives of deadened kin
40s and blunts the medicine, street regiments and tense tenaments
judges holding immense sentences in tanks with racist ammunition
remnants pray to stand, imprisoned by the wraiths that man envisioned
raise the scam and jizm with the oldtimers busting nuts for 5
freshly detailed whips pass as the driver rusts inside...