trap.
01-28-2013, 12:25 AM
01-06-2002
Sci-Phi spits:
you come at me wit nothing but curse words/but i got worse words/my flow creates a beat thatll irregulate your cpu cursors/my rhymes carry weight/but yours are bulemic/regurgitating others flows/i know coz i seen it/you couldnt serve me if you was a waiter/you should be my pupil/coz to you/im your educator/youre fading fast in this battle/a lyrical blood loss/if ryhmes were the biggest need/id be the lyrical RED CROSS/im startin while youre 3rd string/on this lyrical dream team/i make you cry and terminate youre whole lyrical being/to me youre pint size/when i bring ryhmes thatll rearange YOUR FONT SIZE/in this battle like poker your folding/coz my rhymes confuse your mind/i even cross your DNA CODING/belive me, this battle wont be slept on/coz lyrically, son,
you just got LYRICALLY STEPPED ON
DopeRhyma spits:
washed up n far-from-‘dope’, this faggots droppin 'bars-of-soap'!//
keep wishin you’ll eat an emcee and most definitly 'starve-from-hope'//
start-to-choke your neck like from your birth, tied with an ambilical-chord//
you spit wak on the keys! now wipe ya drool off-the-'board!//
care units, are necessary your headin for hospitalization//
mental clinic registration after dope rhyma’s participation//
Stringin you along for the bus ride, no tour guides are needed//
I’ll be the guide showin your fuckin ass that losses need to be greeted//
I’m killin niggas at random, out of a hat I “pick-souls”//
I’m spittin all over your screen, lyrics drippin from your pixels//
unlike you I captivate crowds, people speak of “dope” openly//
i rap the type of shit even got mute kids quotin’ me//
I’ll lyrically tie ur tounge as if you were a shoe-lace!//
You couldn’t handle my style even if I was a suitecase//
If ever actually killed, I’ll cast spells like ‘die-cast’ collectibles//
beating me more complicated than turning 6 digit fractions to decimals//
by battlin’ me your wastin time I’ll never lose to bitches//
if the vote isn’t for me its due to internet explorer glitches//
Sci-Phi spits:
you come at me wit nothing but curse words/but i got worse words/my flow creates a beat thatll irregulate your cpu cursors/my rhymes carry weight/but yours are bulemic/regurgitating others flows/i know coz i seen it/you couldnt serve me if you was a waiter/you should be my pupil/coz to you/im your educator/youre fading fast in this battle/a lyrical blood loss/if ryhmes were the biggest need/id be the lyrical RED CROSS/im startin while youre 3rd string/on this lyrical dream team/i make you cry and terminate youre whole lyrical being/to me youre pint size/when i bring ryhmes thatll rearange YOUR FONT SIZE/in this battle like poker your folding/coz my rhymes confuse your mind/i even cross your DNA CODING/belive me, this battle wont be slept on/coz lyrically, son,
you just got LYRICALLY STEPPED ON
DopeRhyma spits:
washed up n far-from-‘dope’, this faggots droppin 'bars-of-soap'!//
keep wishin you’ll eat an emcee and most definitly 'starve-from-hope'//
start-to-choke your neck like from your birth, tied with an ambilical-chord//
you spit wak on the keys! now wipe ya drool off-the-'board!//
care units, are necessary your headin for hospitalization//
mental clinic registration after dope rhyma’s participation//
Stringin you along for the bus ride, no tour guides are needed//
I’ll be the guide showin your fuckin ass that losses need to be greeted//
I’m killin niggas at random, out of a hat I “pick-souls”//
I’m spittin all over your screen, lyrics drippin from your pixels//
unlike you I captivate crowds, people speak of “dope” openly//
i rap the type of shit even got mute kids quotin’ me//
I’ll lyrically tie ur tounge as if you were a shoe-lace!//
You couldn’t handle my style even if I was a suitecase//
If ever actually killed, I’ll cast spells like ‘die-cast’ collectibles//
beating me more complicated than turning 6 digit fractions to decimals//
by battlin’ me your wastin time I’ll never lose to bitches//
if the vote isn’t for me its due to internet explorer glitches//