God Of War
01-27-2013, 02:00 PM
posted on 2/21/01
MorbidMC
Okay...I keyed this up last night.
But I had to put my kid asleep, so I didn't have time to post it..but..I'm postin' this now before I go to work.
I spit so "Stone Cold", my rhymes leave Judge Dread "Stunned" as I reign number "One"-
I eat more "beef (enimies)" than Fat Joe and Big Pun on a "Burger Run"-
I got you confused and out of place battling me now how did that "happen?"-
i'm tappin your mental then overlappin your thought pattern in the middle of your "rappin"-
you made an insane call accepting a challenge when you obviously lack the talent"-
the sides unbalanced so add MORBID to the worlds illest and subtract you like an
"accountant"-
In an instant I'll charge at thee with beautifully crafted imagries starting with your elite
"status"-
the fact is, my formal training in verbal spitting will leave you breathless, seeking for a
breathing "apparatus"-
if you didnt notice, the beating perspectives on your cerebrals I wouldn't call an art, but
a riotous "malpractice"-
with the coliding of my senses, I'll leave your "defenses defenseless" for trying to test
this, now observe how I "rock-et"-
using verbals as weapons to drop a sentence and pierce relentless your testes, your
skeletals "socket"-
I'll use my words as swords, verbal-forged to cut lifespans of your spinal cord as you
fight back like "Erckle"-
as Morbid, I'll split your anals through intestinals, eternal, and make you
think twice of fighting back as your anatomy has been physically "encircled"-
Laced with lyrical Art-Tearing your body part from part, your rhymes sell as-much as
broken Items in "K-Mart"-
I come at you with more artillery than BraveHeart, Rippin off ya nutsack and wearin it
is my "TradeMark™"-
to rid your existence I'll use inflicted pain techniques to go the distance while your
resistance I lay to "rest"-
you battling me will leave you grasping for last breaths, to a vivid picture on how you
are to me, a "child", who "suck" your mothers "breasts"
I'll run violently like white kids with guns and trenchcoat vests, you dared to test, but
your no contest in the arts of "texts"-
Beating Morbid for your ass is to Absurb, I spit lyrics at ya Retnas to sever your optic
"nerves"-
Like a mute with his Mouth Taped ya rhymes are "unheard"-
"the next one to get f---ed is you bitch the nimpho chump who swears you tight but i
know the "facts"-
cause I'll remove your "thorax" and snap your vertebrae back in a 90 degree angle then
make you try to "relax"-
sitting there contorted while i relapse and spit attacks on your mental "stability"-
i f--- you in the mouth while you pout with snot comin out your snout cryin over your
attempt to test my "ability"-
While you strictly clearance rack, my rhymes is top price, If I smashed your head on
the side of a "glacier", you still couldn't rock "ice"-
Stilling on Damon Wayans still couldn't stop my hype, Have your whole ring side
screaming when I enter, "Morbid", stop the fight!!"-
Like a kid "crossing the street", I'll stop your "lights", Slap you with my "alarm", hit
a jab wit my "wristwatch" just to say I "clocked" you twice-
Kneel before your highness, the lines I spit at you fry your cataracts, it's a fact that my
rhymes are priceless like the gold of Midas and the treasures of Isis-
"My 'gift' to you, is a 'present' state of crisis, then I'll stick my dick in your tight lipped
mouth and espouse pounds of pressure before I sever your tongue with my right fist,
and rip out your sinus"-
Try this for shock...You couldn't be more f---ed if I shaved your torso, dressed you in
Rupaul's wardrobe, then tossed you in a Ron Jeremy porno with four bro's with
cornrows, "Ah look at the poor ho"-
vs.
DJ Judge Dread
Aiight, I'ma keep my word and post a verse, even though it is not 75 bars...
Your angle always measures a negative degree when you trying to front like a real emcee. Hell, you'd be the first negative mic if you were rated by the Source Magazine. You think you Morbid but your only tryin' to orbit, my solar system where you don't have a permit. While my rap comes in three flavors with three toppings like a banana-split. I don't go for you, I play dirty like a Japanese kamakasi at Pearl Habor. Call me a man-of-war, I drop like Schwarzenegger's Predator all over your so-called metaphor. Your an infection that seems to be hereditary. So I am the anti-biotic mercenary sent to destroy this boy lovin' resberry. You rhyme to long like you were reading from your local library. While my vocabulary seems to be turning your bars into fragmentary. You probably read one of my pieces, and copied it verbatim. If I were you I would watch out before I pull out an ultimatum. Your the kind of guy, who sounds like a hypocrite. We don't except fake rappers here, you must be counerfeit. I spit out bars so violent you could code name 'em verbal-militarial-balistics. After my reign of terror I'll have you checking into a mental hospital as a sadistic negrophobic. You think you skin and bone, but you really made of dark cardboard. And your discord makes this "story board" look like the ultimate reward. I know you like sniffin' fellas like you got the nose of a bloodhound. But I got the backround to surround your ass all around. While your rhyme makes you look like you were on the playground. But with me, I muscle-bound my way over your obsticles and across the battle ground. For me to win this would be me just usin' some white out. You tried to look cool wit' some neat tricks, but you just seemed to wipe out. Your rhyme had speed, but it just kinda burnt out. And I am ahead by so much, there is no need for you to call a time out. If you were a twelve inch, I'd spin you to your death. Burnin' you like wax so I could heat up the words from your breath. Then feed you to the cannibals, like you was waste constructed. And you so low on the food chain, you couldn't pay an alien to be abducted.
"...You never, heard of a rhyme as perverted as mine..."
MorbidMC
Okay...I keyed this up last night.
But I had to put my kid asleep, so I didn't have time to post it..but..I'm postin' this now before I go to work.
I spit so "Stone Cold", my rhymes leave Judge Dread "Stunned" as I reign number "One"-
I eat more "beef (enimies)" than Fat Joe and Big Pun on a "Burger Run"-
I got you confused and out of place battling me now how did that "happen?"-
i'm tappin your mental then overlappin your thought pattern in the middle of your "rappin"-
you made an insane call accepting a challenge when you obviously lack the talent"-
the sides unbalanced so add MORBID to the worlds illest and subtract you like an
"accountant"-
In an instant I'll charge at thee with beautifully crafted imagries starting with your elite
"status"-
the fact is, my formal training in verbal spitting will leave you breathless, seeking for a
breathing "apparatus"-
if you didnt notice, the beating perspectives on your cerebrals I wouldn't call an art, but
a riotous "malpractice"-
with the coliding of my senses, I'll leave your "defenses defenseless" for trying to test
this, now observe how I "rock-et"-
using verbals as weapons to drop a sentence and pierce relentless your testes, your
skeletals "socket"-
I'll use my words as swords, verbal-forged to cut lifespans of your spinal cord as you
fight back like "Erckle"-
as Morbid, I'll split your anals through intestinals, eternal, and make you
think twice of fighting back as your anatomy has been physically "encircled"-
Laced with lyrical Art-Tearing your body part from part, your rhymes sell as-much as
broken Items in "K-Mart"-
I come at you with more artillery than BraveHeart, Rippin off ya nutsack and wearin it
is my "TradeMark™"-
to rid your existence I'll use inflicted pain techniques to go the distance while your
resistance I lay to "rest"-
you battling me will leave you grasping for last breaths, to a vivid picture on how you
are to me, a "child", who "suck" your mothers "breasts"
I'll run violently like white kids with guns and trenchcoat vests, you dared to test, but
your no contest in the arts of "texts"-
Beating Morbid for your ass is to Absurb, I spit lyrics at ya Retnas to sever your optic
"nerves"-
Like a mute with his Mouth Taped ya rhymes are "unheard"-
"the next one to get f---ed is you bitch the nimpho chump who swears you tight but i
know the "facts"-
cause I'll remove your "thorax" and snap your vertebrae back in a 90 degree angle then
make you try to "relax"-
sitting there contorted while i relapse and spit attacks on your mental "stability"-
i f--- you in the mouth while you pout with snot comin out your snout cryin over your
attempt to test my "ability"-
While you strictly clearance rack, my rhymes is top price, If I smashed your head on
the side of a "glacier", you still couldn't rock "ice"-
Stilling on Damon Wayans still couldn't stop my hype, Have your whole ring side
screaming when I enter, "Morbid", stop the fight!!"-
Like a kid "crossing the street", I'll stop your "lights", Slap you with my "alarm", hit
a jab wit my "wristwatch" just to say I "clocked" you twice-
Kneel before your highness, the lines I spit at you fry your cataracts, it's a fact that my
rhymes are priceless like the gold of Midas and the treasures of Isis-
"My 'gift' to you, is a 'present' state of crisis, then I'll stick my dick in your tight lipped
mouth and espouse pounds of pressure before I sever your tongue with my right fist,
and rip out your sinus"-
Try this for shock...You couldn't be more f---ed if I shaved your torso, dressed you in
Rupaul's wardrobe, then tossed you in a Ron Jeremy porno with four bro's with
cornrows, "Ah look at the poor ho"-
vs.
DJ Judge Dread
Aiight, I'ma keep my word and post a verse, even though it is not 75 bars...
Your angle always measures a negative degree when you trying to front like a real emcee. Hell, you'd be the first negative mic if you were rated by the Source Magazine. You think you Morbid but your only tryin' to orbit, my solar system where you don't have a permit. While my rap comes in three flavors with three toppings like a banana-split. I don't go for you, I play dirty like a Japanese kamakasi at Pearl Habor. Call me a man-of-war, I drop like Schwarzenegger's Predator all over your so-called metaphor. Your an infection that seems to be hereditary. So I am the anti-biotic mercenary sent to destroy this boy lovin' resberry. You rhyme to long like you were reading from your local library. While my vocabulary seems to be turning your bars into fragmentary. You probably read one of my pieces, and copied it verbatim. If I were you I would watch out before I pull out an ultimatum. Your the kind of guy, who sounds like a hypocrite. We don't except fake rappers here, you must be counerfeit. I spit out bars so violent you could code name 'em verbal-militarial-balistics. After my reign of terror I'll have you checking into a mental hospital as a sadistic negrophobic. You think you skin and bone, but you really made of dark cardboard. And your discord makes this "story board" look like the ultimate reward. I know you like sniffin' fellas like you got the nose of a bloodhound. But I got the backround to surround your ass all around. While your rhyme makes you look like you were on the playground. But with me, I muscle-bound my way over your obsticles and across the battle ground. For me to win this would be me just usin' some white out. You tried to look cool wit' some neat tricks, but you just seemed to wipe out. Your rhyme had speed, but it just kinda burnt out. And I am ahead by so much, there is no need for you to call a time out. If you were a twelve inch, I'd spin you to your death. Burnin' you like wax so I could heat up the words from your breath. Then feed you to the cannibals, like you was waste constructed. And you so low on the food chain, you couldn't pay an alien to be abducted.
"...You never, heard of a rhyme as perverted as mine..."