trap.
02-02-2013, 06:26 PM
AloeVera:
Take a deep breath.. It`ll be ya last..
Slow ya roll to a stroll, It`s time my rhymes took a toll on ya goal,
This ain't a basketball film, But i`ma still put "Soul in the Hole",
I control the whole role ya condone, ..And spit like a rifle,
I`m punchin you - 'period', ..S.o.u.l. just got hit for the 'cycle',
It`s good that you get with the times, Too bad yours is out now,
I`d serve you in audio, And here ya even herbed with-out sound,
My words can rout rounds, Ya losin and it`s disappointin you,
I got a 'sharp eye' Soul, ..I`ma stab you with my 'point of view',
Then break a joint or two, Step up and i`ll leave ya role hurtin,
I`ma kid-nap your heart, And leave the rest of you 'Soul searchin',
Listen, Don't blame me for the disses, I`m just a sender of fact,
Think back to the last time you beat off and "remember ya wack",
Never attack kids you can't beat, You should know the phrase,
Rockin a For-BI`s shirt, Even you said ya name goes both ways,
You better than I ? I`m already in your head, So know the deal,
'Every Little Thing I Do is on your mind', ..So is Soul 4 Real??
I`ll pull your card and then 'deck' you, You ain't supposed to win,
Hit ya wit a full house, After-all you are named after an Olsen twin,
..And you STILL don't know any "DJ`s", ..I`m whole in control,
This battles like my old pair of Nikes, I`m puttin holes in the 'sole'..
Need to catch your breath?? ..Too bad..
Let`s speak on your pic Soul, Please tell us what happened,
I dunno what the fuck ya doin, But no one can 'picture you rappin',
The shit that your yappin? Quit it! ..Or end ya life with slug`s,
Frontin' like your rhymin to someone, Too bad the mic's unplugged,
Why you the only one at ya show? You spit? God it`s doubtful,
Thats why your suckin' on the mic like a dick and got a mouthfull,
Your out fool, But thats some shit you should already know tho',
You can't "reach"expectations, Guess thats why your cruisin 'solo',
Even your hoe knows, ..Who`ll you`ll notice i`ve been with,
I`m like make-up when fuckin her, I blow and both of her lipstick,
She`s holdin my dick with both hands, And i`m dousin her lace,
I got her lip-locked, And I ain't talkin about the mouth on her face,
Dropped her blouse to her waist, Then i started casin' her ass,
It`s like my dick was an almanac, The way she was 'facin the facts',
But i`m racin off track, Your wack, And heads know it`s true,
You got an FBI shirt on because the crowd is FED up with you,
Your fuckin through, Lemme tell you about the show your at,
Even with the black 'n white pic i can see your clothes dont match,
I`m steps ahead, I kill kids you even think your gonna roll with,
Sonnin' you so bad that kids are gonna say i 'Summered Soulstice',
By a whole i`m liver, ..I`m 'taken swings' like I stole the 'driver',
This battle just turned into a wasteland, And i`m the Soul-survivor
p m p i n '
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
s.o.u.l.:
aight...let's get right to it...
Honestly Mike, I hope you're holding your breath...
That'll save me the trouble of having to choke you to death,
Silence bufoon, you're dying by noon, motherfucker, lie in your tomb,
Yall holding his nuts...but the rest of Mike's on the other side of the room...
Burned and beat up, here's a round you'll have to *earn* you weak fuck,
You're gonna need that fucking towel when I turn the heat up,
My guns spit lead, it's dinnertime, come get fed,
Let me break it down, I'm a take this round, fuck what some kid said,
You shoulda just hung ya head, skip the bow, your last battle was WAY dull,
Damn Mike, the only cat skinnier than you lives in Castle Gray Skull,
You've had it dog, tell you what, you buy the farm, I'll buy you the catalogue,
All you can 'count' on is -not- getting to Monty Cristo after your ass is flogged,
It's my job to maim you, your strikes are hardly painful,
Mad cuz Lucy Lui out-armwrestled you for that third spot in Charlie's Angels,
Sorry angel, you 'bout to hit rock bottom like rock golems goin' anal,
How long should this continue?
You're a schitzophrenic with PMS, I know the bitch is in you,
You can't 'produce a straight line,' no way your sober, the game is over,
Only thing you 'strong arm' is your own acrid odor with baking soda,
I'm blazin', leave you wondering where the nearest fire hydrant is,
Pull ya card like minors drinking with fake drivers licenses,
How'd you make it here? My guess: you suck and lucked up,
Your songs are garbage...
The only thing going gold is the silence once you shut the fuck up,
I'd spot you my plus one vote, but you'd shit on the honor system,
You're the type to hit a 40-day dry-spell and blame it on catholicism,
My game is gold, you couldn't get ass to save your soul,
Tried to take the road less travelled and still had pay to the toll,
Since your first bar, you're like my first car...
All you can do is get gassed and 'play the roll,'
When I take control, they'll vote for soul, I even got ya friends on lock,
Pretend ya hot, while I prove your overated like Enron stock,
And I won't stop there, got you callin' the ref, like "soul's not fair!"
You need to retire, I breathe fire, all you do is blow hot air,
Look, you're dumb and that's that, it'd be a start to understand that,
After shows I give a hundred hands dap, all you get is a hundred-hand-slap,
I can handle Mike pissed with talent like this,
I'll repeatedly land my right fist,
Head-shots leave your face looking like a satellite dish,
I'm hard as malachite, bitch,
Your lack of voice and size were somewhat of a joint surprise,
Don't take it to heart, quit rap and go find something to moisturize...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Final:
s.o.u.l. (12) - AloeVera (8)
Take a deep breath.. It`ll be ya last..
Slow ya roll to a stroll, It`s time my rhymes took a toll on ya goal,
This ain't a basketball film, But i`ma still put "Soul in the Hole",
I control the whole role ya condone, ..And spit like a rifle,
I`m punchin you - 'period', ..S.o.u.l. just got hit for the 'cycle',
It`s good that you get with the times, Too bad yours is out now,
I`d serve you in audio, And here ya even herbed with-out sound,
My words can rout rounds, Ya losin and it`s disappointin you,
I got a 'sharp eye' Soul, ..I`ma stab you with my 'point of view',
Then break a joint or two, Step up and i`ll leave ya role hurtin,
I`ma kid-nap your heart, And leave the rest of you 'Soul searchin',
Listen, Don't blame me for the disses, I`m just a sender of fact,
Think back to the last time you beat off and "remember ya wack",
Never attack kids you can't beat, You should know the phrase,
Rockin a For-BI`s shirt, Even you said ya name goes both ways,
You better than I ? I`m already in your head, So know the deal,
'Every Little Thing I Do is on your mind', ..So is Soul 4 Real??
I`ll pull your card and then 'deck' you, You ain't supposed to win,
Hit ya wit a full house, After-all you are named after an Olsen twin,
..And you STILL don't know any "DJ`s", ..I`m whole in control,
This battles like my old pair of Nikes, I`m puttin holes in the 'sole'..
Need to catch your breath?? ..Too bad..
Let`s speak on your pic Soul, Please tell us what happened,
I dunno what the fuck ya doin, But no one can 'picture you rappin',
The shit that your yappin? Quit it! ..Or end ya life with slug`s,
Frontin' like your rhymin to someone, Too bad the mic's unplugged,
Why you the only one at ya show? You spit? God it`s doubtful,
Thats why your suckin' on the mic like a dick and got a mouthfull,
Your out fool, But thats some shit you should already know tho',
You can't "reach"expectations, Guess thats why your cruisin 'solo',
Even your hoe knows, ..Who`ll you`ll notice i`ve been with,
I`m like make-up when fuckin her, I blow and both of her lipstick,
She`s holdin my dick with both hands, And i`m dousin her lace,
I got her lip-locked, And I ain't talkin about the mouth on her face,
Dropped her blouse to her waist, Then i started casin' her ass,
It`s like my dick was an almanac, The way she was 'facin the facts',
But i`m racin off track, Your wack, And heads know it`s true,
You got an FBI shirt on because the crowd is FED up with you,
Your fuckin through, Lemme tell you about the show your at,
Even with the black 'n white pic i can see your clothes dont match,
I`m steps ahead, I kill kids you even think your gonna roll with,
Sonnin' you so bad that kids are gonna say i 'Summered Soulstice',
By a whole i`m liver, ..I`m 'taken swings' like I stole the 'driver',
This battle just turned into a wasteland, And i`m the Soul-survivor
p m p i n '
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
s.o.u.l.:
aight...let's get right to it...
Honestly Mike, I hope you're holding your breath...
That'll save me the trouble of having to choke you to death,
Silence bufoon, you're dying by noon, motherfucker, lie in your tomb,
Yall holding his nuts...but the rest of Mike's on the other side of the room...
Burned and beat up, here's a round you'll have to *earn* you weak fuck,
You're gonna need that fucking towel when I turn the heat up,
My guns spit lead, it's dinnertime, come get fed,
Let me break it down, I'm a take this round, fuck what some kid said,
You shoulda just hung ya head, skip the bow, your last battle was WAY dull,
Damn Mike, the only cat skinnier than you lives in Castle Gray Skull,
You've had it dog, tell you what, you buy the farm, I'll buy you the catalogue,
All you can 'count' on is -not- getting to Monty Cristo after your ass is flogged,
It's my job to maim you, your strikes are hardly painful,
Mad cuz Lucy Lui out-armwrestled you for that third spot in Charlie's Angels,
Sorry angel, you 'bout to hit rock bottom like rock golems goin' anal,
How long should this continue?
You're a schitzophrenic with PMS, I know the bitch is in you,
You can't 'produce a straight line,' no way your sober, the game is over,
Only thing you 'strong arm' is your own acrid odor with baking soda,
I'm blazin', leave you wondering where the nearest fire hydrant is,
Pull ya card like minors drinking with fake drivers licenses,
How'd you make it here? My guess: you suck and lucked up,
Your songs are garbage...
The only thing going gold is the silence once you shut the fuck up,
I'd spot you my plus one vote, but you'd shit on the honor system,
You're the type to hit a 40-day dry-spell and blame it on catholicism,
My game is gold, you couldn't get ass to save your soul,
Tried to take the road less travelled and still had pay to the toll,
Since your first bar, you're like my first car...
All you can do is get gassed and 'play the roll,'
When I take control, they'll vote for soul, I even got ya friends on lock,
Pretend ya hot, while I prove your overated like Enron stock,
And I won't stop there, got you callin' the ref, like "soul's not fair!"
You need to retire, I breathe fire, all you do is blow hot air,
Look, you're dumb and that's that, it'd be a start to understand that,
After shows I give a hundred hands dap, all you get is a hundred-hand-slap,
I can handle Mike pissed with talent like this,
I'll repeatedly land my right fist,
Head-shots leave your face looking like a satellite dish,
I'm hard as malachite, bitch,
Your lack of voice and size were somewhat of a joint surprise,
Don't take it to heart, quit rap and go find something to moisturize...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Final:
s.o.u.l. (12) - AloeVera (8)