God Of War
01-28-2013, 08:03 PM
posted on 8/19/00
LyFe
Test versus Lyfe.. no mercy.. bloodsport kid..
The "Why the hell is this kid fronting" style..
I translocate TEST's fate to the realm where his mental shatters/
You can't possibly call those lyrics skill, droppin' fecal mistakin' for brain matter/
With the crowd mezmorized an' hypnotized like tha Mad Hatter - I proceed--//
To exact payback from the latter, a win you didn't deserve/
You even bringin' it to round 2 is unheard - at a loss for words/
Subliminal messagin' has ya vocab second guessin' an' recollectin'/
Analyzin' every possible strategm but knowin' that this round you aren't bestin'/
With ya head restin' in ya hands complacent to the inevitable/
Go'head kid an' get personal - I stand unequivocal - it ain't debatable!/
Style switch.. ::mutlisyllable/wordplay::
Telegraphin' ya pre-writ an' bitten shyt that ya keyed real quick/
Makin' up so many god damn stories, changin' ya name from Test to SLICK/
but I RICK RUDE awaken leavin' ya weak mind shaken with every word I speak/
Before the keyboard stroke, ya pitiful verbal display forsaken/
Beaten straight out an' blatant wit material far from latent - face it--/
Breakin' ya elemental scheme to the bone to snap an' spinal tap--/
with ya vertebrae in gaps, slipped discs from this kid, aKa minor mishap/
Backhanded an' bitchslapped.. yeah, dip into ya herb fan base to get dap../
Nah, it ain't over..
Cold to the touch cause it doesn't take much to FREEZE like ICE in RINKS/
Fact of the matter is you STILL couldn't BUILD A LINK even if ZODIAC--/
an' BLACK INQ made a program called "Helpin' the WEAK" - still try to speak?/
Couldn't DISPATCH this battle even if you were on CLINTON's personal 911/
An' sad enough the reality on this 411 is that you weren't made to spit raps/
You're just barely reachin' knee caps, preppie prick gettin' starbucks fraps/
Rockin' clothes from the GAP with a bootleg chin strap an' sportin' Disney cap/
Sorry son, but bottom line this battle's been gone an' ur better of endin' ya--/
piece with what most headz do on AIM.. ONE.. yeh kid.. ur done../
(C'mon kid.. turn it up!!)
vs.
Test
I’m blessed with infested lyrical dominance, as you take battle stance and prance around this site like you have some point to prove/ you’re quick to jump the gun like Puffy and say you can defeat me, no matter what you do I still never lose/ leaving your ego beaten and bruised as I cruise and rip this battle as if it was sketching paper/ I despise you so much you could be my own mom and I would still hate-her/ your flows are faker then an epileptic saying he can jump on a trampoline/ you could be God and still wouldn’t be considered spiritually clean/ splitting your spleen just to see how you digest my rhymes as I define a lyrical blinding/ labeled you missing as your body parts are scattered like Humpy Dumpty, but never allowed for a finding/ I’m signing your coffin first hand, you could be apart of the CASH MONEY clique and still wouldn’t see a grand/ I’m never bland, all those counterfeit votes you got in the past battle musta been your aliases/ you’re as good as dead, because I’m the uni-bomber and your the first on my mailing-list/ I spit harder the quick-fists, and spit smoother then slick-tits/ your style resembles a toilet, and I’m the shit, you beating me is like working at TARGET you just can’t miss/ I’m-a lyrical bliss to your eyes, I should be labeled a biohazard/ your flows resemble post orgasim masturbation they can’t hang with us afterward/ your first word was "yo" in the post that you had to show/ you had so many dick-ryders in the first battle, I wasn’t sure if you knew how to blow// ((Just fuckin with you))
I’m a cyborg demented of the third kind, leaving you inclined to rhyme as I define the meaning of time/ accurately I could say you’re out of it, I’m so quick light years were shattered when ya'll decided to read mine/ but neverMIND because you’re LOSING it, just like this battle that took place two thousand years ago/ see I’m on a different level then you, ahead of even myself, and with knowledge that God doesn’t even know/ you’re intended to be slow, mentally challenged and not breathing, leaving your spine left dangling from my necklace just to BREAK even/ I'm weav'n your rhyme plot, as I brace you for your burial slot/ this is just an afterthought of a battle, that was resurrected by poor voting against a "rapping big-shot"/ you’re caught in your own game, as you thought it was my fame that won me that last battle/ I’ve been dismantling emcees while you still had your moms nipple in your mouth, and still swinging the rattle/ someone get the paddle I’m dispersing lickings like these weak emcees have never felt before/ never the more I soar in this battle as if I deplored with a hoard of verses on this so called "battle board"//
This battle is like Pinocchio 'no strings attached', as I counterattack your soon to be wack rap with a verse that'll make heads start to back-track/ lets recap as I close in on you as if you were a claustrophobiac, then relapse your memory leaving you a amnesiac/ its for the better if you don’t remember that last verse you dispersed in that other battle, it was worse then if I did this blind folded and in reverse/ lets commerce and converse of how Test is going to completely destroy you, I asperse a curse leaving your whole body black and blue/ please discontinue with your wack rhyming slue of verses it’s making my eyes hurt, I could construe something better if this was Sesame Street and my name was Bert/ as you step on the dirt, just remember that it’s Gods’ land, I’m starting to demand respect for what I created, your first here’s a holy backhand/ “I’m never bland” is what you should realize, as I analyze your flow and recognize it couldn’t “hypnotize” Biggie if he was “born again”/ I demoralize all competition as if I was a dogfighter airmen, you talk as much shit as John Rocker coming out of the bullpen/ you couldn’t win this battle if I had an absentee, but then my spirit would take over, and show the site there is no way you can beat me completely//
**Good verse. This’ll be a LOT tougher than Rd. 1 Good Luck**
LyFe
Test versus Lyfe.. no mercy.. bloodsport kid..
The "Why the hell is this kid fronting" style..
I translocate TEST's fate to the realm where his mental shatters/
You can't possibly call those lyrics skill, droppin' fecal mistakin' for brain matter/
With the crowd mezmorized an' hypnotized like tha Mad Hatter - I proceed--//
To exact payback from the latter, a win you didn't deserve/
You even bringin' it to round 2 is unheard - at a loss for words/
Subliminal messagin' has ya vocab second guessin' an' recollectin'/
Analyzin' every possible strategm but knowin' that this round you aren't bestin'/
With ya head restin' in ya hands complacent to the inevitable/
Go'head kid an' get personal - I stand unequivocal - it ain't debatable!/
Style switch.. ::mutlisyllable/wordplay::
Telegraphin' ya pre-writ an' bitten shyt that ya keyed real quick/
Makin' up so many god damn stories, changin' ya name from Test to SLICK/
but I RICK RUDE awaken leavin' ya weak mind shaken with every word I speak/
Before the keyboard stroke, ya pitiful verbal display forsaken/
Beaten straight out an' blatant wit material far from latent - face it--/
Breakin' ya elemental scheme to the bone to snap an' spinal tap--/
with ya vertebrae in gaps, slipped discs from this kid, aKa minor mishap/
Backhanded an' bitchslapped.. yeah, dip into ya herb fan base to get dap../
Nah, it ain't over..
Cold to the touch cause it doesn't take much to FREEZE like ICE in RINKS/
Fact of the matter is you STILL couldn't BUILD A LINK even if ZODIAC--/
an' BLACK INQ made a program called "Helpin' the WEAK" - still try to speak?/
Couldn't DISPATCH this battle even if you were on CLINTON's personal 911/
An' sad enough the reality on this 411 is that you weren't made to spit raps/
You're just barely reachin' knee caps, preppie prick gettin' starbucks fraps/
Rockin' clothes from the GAP with a bootleg chin strap an' sportin' Disney cap/
Sorry son, but bottom line this battle's been gone an' ur better of endin' ya--/
piece with what most headz do on AIM.. ONE.. yeh kid.. ur done../
(C'mon kid.. turn it up!!)
vs.
Test
I’m blessed with infested lyrical dominance, as you take battle stance and prance around this site like you have some point to prove/ you’re quick to jump the gun like Puffy and say you can defeat me, no matter what you do I still never lose/ leaving your ego beaten and bruised as I cruise and rip this battle as if it was sketching paper/ I despise you so much you could be my own mom and I would still hate-her/ your flows are faker then an epileptic saying he can jump on a trampoline/ you could be God and still wouldn’t be considered spiritually clean/ splitting your spleen just to see how you digest my rhymes as I define a lyrical blinding/ labeled you missing as your body parts are scattered like Humpy Dumpty, but never allowed for a finding/ I’m signing your coffin first hand, you could be apart of the CASH MONEY clique and still wouldn’t see a grand/ I’m never bland, all those counterfeit votes you got in the past battle musta been your aliases/ you’re as good as dead, because I’m the uni-bomber and your the first on my mailing-list/ I spit harder the quick-fists, and spit smoother then slick-tits/ your style resembles a toilet, and I’m the shit, you beating me is like working at TARGET you just can’t miss/ I’m-a lyrical bliss to your eyes, I should be labeled a biohazard/ your flows resemble post orgasim masturbation they can’t hang with us afterward/ your first word was "yo" in the post that you had to show/ you had so many dick-ryders in the first battle, I wasn’t sure if you knew how to blow// ((Just fuckin with you))
I’m a cyborg demented of the third kind, leaving you inclined to rhyme as I define the meaning of time/ accurately I could say you’re out of it, I’m so quick light years were shattered when ya'll decided to read mine/ but neverMIND because you’re LOSING it, just like this battle that took place two thousand years ago/ see I’m on a different level then you, ahead of even myself, and with knowledge that God doesn’t even know/ you’re intended to be slow, mentally challenged and not breathing, leaving your spine left dangling from my necklace just to BREAK even/ I'm weav'n your rhyme plot, as I brace you for your burial slot/ this is just an afterthought of a battle, that was resurrected by poor voting against a "rapping big-shot"/ you’re caught in your own game, as you thought it was my fame that won me that last battle/ I’ve been dismantling emcees while you still had your moms nipple in your mouth, and still swinging the rattle/ someone get the paddle I’m dispersing lickings like these weak emcees have never felt before/ never the more I soar in this battle as if I deplored with a hoard of verses on this so called "battle board"//
This battle is like Pinocchio 'no strings attached', as I counterattack your soon to be wack rap with a verse that'll make heads start to back-track/ lets recap as I close in on you as if you were a claustrophobiac, then relapse your memory leaving you a amnesiac/ its for the better if you don’t remember that last verse you dispersed in that other battle, it was worse then if I did this blind folded and in reverse/ lets commerce and converse of how Test is going to completely destroy you, I asperse a curse leaving your whole body black and blue/ please discontinue with your wack rhyming slue of verses it’s making my eyes hurt, I could construe something better if this was Sesame Street and my name was Bert/ as you step on the dirt, just remember that it’s Gods’ land, I’m starting to demand respect for what I created, your first here’s a holy backhand/ “I’m never bland” is what you should realize, as I analyze your flow and recognize it couldn’t “hypnotize” Biggie if he was “born again”/ I demoralize all competition as if I was a dogfighter airmen, you talk as much shit as John Rocker coming out of the bullpen/ you couldn’t win this battle if I had an absentee, but then my spirit would take over, and show the site there is no way you can beat me completely//
**Good verse. This’ll be a LOT tougher than Rd. 1 Good Luck**