God Of War
01-27-2013, 12:51 PM
posted on 6/1/02
XKING
it's like 5 in the morning but i know i won't have time to post during the day so i'll just post now....
You claim to be a DJ but you barely scratch the surface/
can't "change" the voters mind cuz your wack verse is "worthless"/
this is a test of true skills aint no experiment/
chances of you winnin are like ILLEKTRIK ILLeKtriK comin out of retirement/
you deserve to dangle from a cliff and have ya fingers kicked/
not even worthy enough to be a Cyber OptiQ/
chance of your survival is like Magic screwin another chick/
all rise as my gavel swings down upon thee/
only way you'd be a judge was if your first name was Judy/
your threads are all garbage and should all be closed/
while i get more views than playboy centerfolds/
like an old marker everything you write is dried out/
only way my punches wouldn't land was if you crawled into a Bin Laden hide out/
I'm detrimental to your health like sugar eaten by diabetics/
puncture your lungs unreviveable by paramedics/
ya boyfriend taped you on "Cam" while you were screamin "Oh Boy"/
he said do you want me to stop and you replied "no boy"/
think twice before you accept battles from KING/
cuz you're a shame like the Fridge on celebrity boxing/
vs
DJ Judge Dread
Why do I feel like my verse isn't as good as XKING'S?
I kick heavy vocab to paint on a full picture.
Your life is like a "double meaning," you must be a switch hitter.
Makin' rhymes sicker then seeing fat bitches in tight leather.
If you spit "the heat," I'd just rain/reign down on you like bad weather.
You need a turtle-neck sweater to cover up your neck punctures.
And you need to slow down your pen, you f'ing amateur.
Every line of mine is signature, while you run from it.
My words are like riding a roller coaster; I make your guts plummet.
I use the stomach's of fat men to stretch my syllables and give you a full caption.
You don't even make sense, you might as well quit rappin'.
Bring on the attackin', 'cause I crush overzealous fags and hammer shit.
Reading your verse is like getting to see a new piece from Illectrik, where is it?
I loose interest, my rhymes wilt flowers and curl feet.
Your lines are so thin it looks like they've been fasting for eight weeks.
I crush speech, something to break-wind from.
I should give you a handi-cap so you can actually win some.
Just forfit and succumb, your rhymes are like laced shoes; they're out of date.
You beatin' me is like holding 500 pounds on a paper-plate.
XKING
it's like 5 in the morning but i know i won't have time to post during the day so i'll just post now....
You claim to be a DJ but you barely scratch the surface/
can't "change" the voters mind cuz your wack verse is "worthless"/
this is a test of true skills aint no experiment/
chances of you winnin are like ILLEKTRIK ILLeKtriK comin out of retirement/
you deserve to dangle from a cliff and have ya fingers kicked/
not even worthy enough to be a Cyber OptiQ/
chance of your survival is like Magic screwin another chick/
all rise as my gavel swings down upon thee/
only way you'd be a judge was if your first name was Judy/
your threads are all garbage and should all be closed/
while i get more views than playboy centerfolds/
like an old marker everything you write is dried out/
only way my punches wouldn't land was if you crawled into a Bin Laden hide out/
I'm detrimental to your health like sugar eaten by diabetics/
puncture your lungs unreviveable by paramedics/
ya boyfriend taped you on "Cam" while you were screamin "Oh Boy"/
he said do you want me to stop and you replied "no boy"/
think twice before you accept battles from KING/
cuz you're a shame like the Fridge on celebrity boxing/
vs
DJ Judge Dread
Why do I feel like my verse isn't as good as XKING'S?
I kick heavy vocab to paint on a full picture.
Your life is like a "double meaning," you must be a switch hitter.
Makin' rhymes sicker then seeing fat bitches in tight leather.
If you spit "the heat," I'd just rain/reign down on you like bad weather.
You need a turtle-neck sweater to cover up your neck punctures.
And you need to slow down your pen, you f'ing amateur.
Every line of mine is signature, while you run from it.
My words are like riding a roller coaster; I make your guts plummet.
I use the stomach's of fat men to stretch my syllables and give you a full caption.
You don't even make sense, you might as well quit rappin'.
Bring on the attackin', 'cause I crush overzealous fags and hammer shit.
Reading your verse is like getting to see a new piece from Illectrik, where is it?
I loose interest, my rhymes wilt flowers and curl feet.
Your lines are so thin it looks like they've been fasting for eight weeks.
I crush speech, something to break-wind from.
I should give you a handi-cap so you can actually win some.
Just forfit and succumb, your rhymes are like laced shoes; they're out of date.
You beatin' me is like holding 500 pounds on a paper-plate.