Rygar

[trap.]

Name: Rygar, Skyney, GhostHed
Crews: GHATS, Mellenianz, Rx, Inter Omnis
Where: Miami, Florida
Repped: HG, Sethros, Mentalz, RM, UPN









vs Radius

Rad switches from site to site, he insists it’s strategizing
But I think he’s a ‘gnome-ad’ like a midget advertising
Stick to following trends, you rap like you’re swallowing phlegm
You’re fucking gay…yup, that’s the message sodomy sends
This battle’s like bowling, and your team is outnumbered
I’m debating whether to spare you or leave you in gutters
It’s seemingly funner, serving-an-old-friend
You have DSL, and I’m not referring to modems
Your lips can’t be made smaller, the surgeon’s serious!
But why list “blow jobs” under previous work experience?
When I start revvin the motor, this session is over
Bitch, try beating someone with a head on his shoulders
So the parable stands, shut up or prepare to get slammed
‘You lose an awful lot’ like being outbid for terrible land
Pudgy faced loser, downing junk food without hesitation
Asking for sweets more than fancy hotel reservations
You’ve been practicing your stance, but I’m damaging your chance
You like to ‘follow the formula,’ like avid racing fans
Actually thought you won? Now your pride’s-scarred-worse
Vote = Rad in all categories…was Rygar’s verse!
You were confused, putting your name was just a trendy symbol
I’ll seal the victory, like the wrapping on an old P. Diddy single
This is under judicial review, and I have the grounds to say
I won’t just have 7 votes, I’ll have 7 counts of rape…


vs Adonis/Ajax

I’ll carve ‘bitch’ on your forehead with a tarred knife’s edge
Then I’ll amputate and beat you to death with your bald wife’s leg
Rygar buries mutherfuckers, slice the throat of any scavenger
Your girl wanted to procreate, you frowned and said ‘but baby, I’m an amateur’
Is it Ajax or Adonis? Swallow your tongue up and speak
Or maybe it’s EyeAxe, well I’m ‘NoseHatchet,’ which is just as unique
I’m under your reach, but over your head, it’s over you’re dead
You put voters to bed, yeah they stay awake…by drinking Folgers from kegs
You look like what would happen if Kurt Rambis and a mule bred
And your beats sound like rabid parakeets being released inside a toolshed
While you lack in flow and punch, you have a knack for holding nuts
Captain Ajax sold his wooden leg to see Barry Manilow unplugged
I’ve got an illness not even antidotes would touch, I hurt gays
He’s not crossing his legs, he’s a mutherfucking mermaid!!
Look where his torso meets, three more legs and he’s a centaur
Practice your Zen hard, meditation crackles when the lead sparks
As for UPBA, the heir to the throne tears from flesh to the bone
As for Ajax, bitch always sticks to your threads like the scent of cologne
Adonis jocked by girls? This topic just shocks me
Considering the only passes made at Jeremy are from Collins to Shockey


vs Phant

I should be very fucking worried, this threat is no gimmick,
I’m battling the toughest guy to ever pose next to a midget/
Pack your shit bitch, you don’t wanna face the prolific writer,
So take a running start and hop off the board like olympic divers/
The media hates your music, Phant, stop sending them checks,
When it comes to your audios, ‘the play button never gets any press’/
Plus, I’ve been deadly in verse since before it got trendy to curse,
Your rhymes are less interesting than articles on jellyfish birth/
And stop asking me for new songs, I’m tired of lending you clues,
Phant’s so Behind the Music that VH1 is threatning to sue/
Virgin, Dracula, Jay-Z, I’m gonna target these ‘facts’…
…Just to discard your entire lineup of bars for the match/
You unoriginal fuck, this beating’s a freebie,
You took golf lessons just to try and swing onto the Three T’s/
I’ll be mind-numbingly honest, you’re fucking obnoxious,
Ever since I eclipsed you on Mentalz you’ve been tugging my pockets/
And now you’ve followed me here, all shook and in denial,
Conquering Phonics must’ve meant a lot, since you couldn’t as a child/
We battled two years ago, and now my declaration states…
…That for our anniversary, Imma take you on an expiration date/


vs SOD

Pardon me soldier, but you're just a thorn in a garden of hopefuls
I'll stick your arm and your shoulder down the garbage disposal
The carnage is total, a sort of irreversible slaughter
While a surgical doctor tries to place your body back in vertical posture
Just burned an imposter, Shadow tried rapping with a lexicon
Now I'm shape shifting like square dancing in the pentagon
In the pole position, and I’m not referring to internet surveys
Synonym wordplay ends this innocent mermaid’s bid for the first aid
That’s like fifteen syllables, without compromising coherency
Crying out “Rygar, you-crossed-the-line-and-embarrassed-me!”
Well, your SODomizing was scaring me, I’m opposed to ride dicks
Shadows Of Darkness? I’ll whoop your ass during a solar eclipse
A clone of the myth, an injured fake with words that syncopate
Lines so fucking long they bill your ISP long distance rates
I’ll quickly end this fake cuz I’m invincible around mics
The letter you’ll receive is downright…umm, it’s just downright (L)
An apology would sound nice, if not I’ll serve this fool that copies
In this battle Shadow’s similar to a sand castle during a tsunami
With the fury of a Nazi, I see you rhyme with special needs
Scared I’ll ‘make a return’ like companies designing Enter keys
You fucking flame, saw you selling your body on the boulevard
I’d expose you for living in Gayland only ‘iff’ I pulled your ‘Card’
Your skull is scarred for testing, this is a nightmare of a rhyme
On this site your ‘buzz is ending’ like when Lightyear almost died


vs Native Tongue

You’re faker than saccharine, and gayer than Annorin
I’m the first American settler, burning ‘Native’s establishment’
He recycles more than I do, expect nothing less from a herb
Proof? He drives up to Michigan and gets ten cents for his verse
Should I post your old rhymes? I’m not a logical thinker
But that’s like playing Russian roulette with the chronological trigger
I wanna kill myself when I glance at your old rhymes
I’ll crush your ambitions, and make a wasteland out of your goal mines
Because my name weighs a ton, I’ll leave you slain for fun
I’ll shit on your language, and fucking pierce your native tongue
How Nate has fun? He registers a new alias and folks-laugh-at-it
And by the end of its first day, it’s got a (398.00) post-average
My flow’s adamant, you won’t win now that your mask is withered
Your thinking cap would be a tight squeeze on an action figure
I’d help you repair your dated style if I had patience
Gun talk? You can’t even ‘pump shells’ at the gas station
I wrote an ode to your wife, yet she found the abode of my knife
Silly hooker kept staring at me, so I sowed up her eyes
Tossed her in a dumpster, don’t worry you still have ownership rights
Before he has sex with a girl, Native puts on a cloaking device
Twenty seconds later they’re done, his eyes wide and battered
Jumps out of bed, and rocks the t-shirt reading ‘size doesn’t matter’
You see, he has a size misfortune, so his advice-is-horseshit
Damn, with a dick that small, he should’ve died an orphan
But I’m here to clean up the blotch that the Reaper forgot
I’m king of the hill, Native’s the queen of the block
You’re number 1 and I’m 2? Don’t start approaching the throne
For it to be truthful, place the numbers around like a rotary phone
Your stories are known to be false, I don’t see your scars
You’ll ‘get stuck in the head’ like videos in faulty VCR’s
And when I win, emit emotion, cry til you fill an ocean
Cuz you live in the past, and my present is your eviction notice

[trap.]

vs Structure

My text premieres to a full audience while your shit’s vacant,
Structure?? What, was MC Abercrombie and Fitch taken?/
You saw me and fled, too bad you’re already dead,
Funny, the one named Structure never makes quality threads/
Enough about clothes. Bring your fans, I’ll leave you herbs humbled,
And you’ll be getting on your niece quicker than perverse uncles/
Desperately trying to climb the ranks, give this bitch a ladder,
‘Imma swing and leave Struc out’ like a pessimistic batter/
I’ve seen him out with guys, this homo gets date raped,
To ‘graph’ your wackness I’ll need 3 walls and a boatload of spray paint/
My verse is ‘Damn.’ First reason…my rhymes are insane,
Second, yours is the flood of wackness that mine’s trying to contain/
Girls are showing interest to bone Structure. I don’t believe this,
Oh wait, that only means the bitches are training to be orthopedists/
You’ll never get laid with that face, hair looks purposely fucked…
…Now I hear you wanna diet orange like sugarfree Crush?/
Good God man, you’re the freak of all freaks,
So musically impaired, you need a translator to speak to the beat/


vs Craven

I’m gonna murder you bitch, start aborting the pro league,
Imma leave your boys droppin’ consecutive 40’s like Kobe/
We battled in a non-smoking area, and flowed in the street,
So when I smoked the fag in public, police told me to leave/
Now let’s get serious, you’re an ugly queer with an awful smell,
So hideous that after one session your webcam uninstalled itself/
You’re the Lakers groupie wanting Derrick’s balls on your face,
Shouting “Hey Fisher, cast your line, my mouth’s calling for bait”/
Honestly, would you rather have a dick to slurp or a cock to taste?
For once though, make up your mind and not your face/
You drag-wearing loser, there’s no flow in your bars,
I HAD to use fake personals, no-one knows who you are/
Yeah, you beat FreeQ last week, but that’s far from compelling,
It’s real tough ousting Jodeci singles with alternate spellings/


vs Mathematixs

Imma start the madness by clapping this punk bitch,
Sime paired you against me. Did you kill his family or someshit?
1>16…people will instantly say “you can’t solve that!”
Read the battle…high school’s not the only time that I bombed Math/
I tear rebels, cut ‘em up like rare metals,
When I aim, I’m ‘Collin the Bullseye’ like Farel in DareDevil/
This is a prizefight…and the purse is a million in wads and stacks,
Although you made it clear that you’re after the purse and not the cash/
First cross-dresser I’ve battled. Why send a pic when you’ll lose?
Only pic you’ll be usin…will be your guitar’s, when you’re home singing the blues/
You came carrying some weight, but then I retired you,
Figured you’d lost so much of it now, maybe Subway would hire you/
You’re on a quest for the fame, but it’s death you’ll attain,
A true revolutionairy, look, he even added an ‘x’ to his name/
Impressed with my game? Right now your mom’s on my bone saw,
“You prefer Bush or a rack?”…told her “sorry bitch, I don’t condone war”/
Jetted quickly, though she was on my trail like a derranged assassin,
The ogre kept chasing me like I had a ring and my name was Baggins/
Let’s discuss the PBA…of which you got sent off quickly,
Dogg, I’m number 2 in the rankings, you didn’t make the top 50/
I saw your prom pic, don’t tell me you actually dated that goblin,
Imma outline Math in chalk like a teacher explaining a problem/
My blade hasn’t softened. You’ll be slain in this tourney,
And scent off early like a skunk that sprays prematurely/
Fuckin’ with Ry’s a mistake, I flow like it’s ministry,
You’ll be hanging by a thread like Megawatts’ social activities/


vs Reach 1 aka Milo

My parents took a vacation. This might come off as intruding…
But tell me about being home alone, since you starred in the movie/
Imma be bold with the facts, you look like a homo that raps,
Plus your head tilts to the side like your right shoulder collapsed/
You look overcome by fear, Imma leave you dead for the vultures,
Your nose look like it’s in a b-boy stance and reppin the culture/
Milo lookin girly. I dunno whether to face or just date her,
Only reloading he’s done is refilling a stapler with staples/
I’m the fuckin lord of rhyme, you’re an unimportant 9,
Wishing well saw who you were facing, and put up an Out Of Order sign/
Borderline gay, so Imma target this freak after cockin the heat,
For the first time in history imma say victory’s not within Reach/
Start to cover, cuz when I pic diss, your squad’ll suffer,
Fucka look like Good Charlotte singer’s retarded brother/
Only one brow pierced? You look too dumb to lie,
Tell ‘em about the second ring, the one I put around your other eye/
Milo fronts like the meanest when his physique lookin squeemish,
Wearing four layers of shirts and STILL look bulimic/
Plus a vest. Punk rocker? Naah, son plays the harmonica,
Only wearing that skully to cover his yamaka/
Your pic evokes horror and fright, Milo Lord of the Flies,
This jewish pansy gonna need more than the Torah tonight/
Let’s discuss the PBA, where you tied with Nasif,
That’s the setup AND the punch, nigga you TIED WITH NASIF/
You admitted that if you faced me…you’d get hit unconscious,
You know, you raise up a good point like Mr. And Mrs. Stockton/
This young bitch’s bones get crushed for acting grown and tough,
Auditioned for the I Can video…and they said he wasn’t old enough/
So I’ll leave you broken in therapy with one last moment of clarity
Your tourney bid ended when I auctioned off your organs for charity/


vs Prowess/Answer

You're Still a novice at clownin’…
You’ve been on my cock so long it’s astoundin’
With molehills so monstrous they’ve evolved into mountains/
I brought my hiking boots though, so I don’t miss any action,
So when I skii on your face, just know it could literally happen/
Confidential material. Speak of these mole’s with discretion,
So many that the FBI’s got his whole neck under witness protection/
He must be a champion boxer, running up stairs in the loud streets,
Look how committed, he took his pic wearing his mouthpiece/
Nice painting, I expect nothing less from a fag with a big lip,
Props, that poster really captures the essence of having a picnic/
And I know you have nightmares, be honest kid…
…Wake up yelling “I don’t care about 9 out of 10 dermatologists!!”
Nice blue t-shirt. “Thanks, I think it means I’m down with a set,”
Nevermind that, just tell me why gophers burrow out of your neck/
I once had Answer in the palm of my hand like a cheating student,
Until one day he realized he fully drained me of penis fluid/
Tired of being my backpocket bitch? Or was me saying “nigga” the problem?
Gotta be the latter, his skateboard has Al Sharpton’s pic on the bottom/
You fuckin moleyard, Imma bury you for tryin ta be Malcolm,
Imma take the W like stealing the Clan’s second to last album/
You wanna get technical? Cuz trust me you’re not strong,
If you had a website, it would be dotdotdotdotdotdotdotCom

[trap.]

vs Booga

You had some success in the past, but this’ll be different duke,
Shit, you named yourself BOOGA and still no-one’s pickin you/
Booga brought an arsenal of swords, a couple gats and a knife,
I showed up with a kleenex, and this nigga ran for his life/
A starving immigrant, at least you’re not some fat fuck with a beard,
Although it’s sad when half of the world’s wax comes from your ears/
Were they dipped in ooze? Dogg, they’ve grown tenfold,
Connected two speakers with a fishing rod just to have headphones/
Even before getting smashed with a fist you were a sad lookin bitch,
Eardrums? Naah, you prolly have a whole marching band in that shit/
The parents you musta had to end up lookin like THAT, dogg,
Ya mom a fiend of the crackrock, your dad the Toys R Us mascot/
Giraffe looking faggot, facing me in text isn’t safe,
Your neck acts as a crane for your wreckin ball face/
Tried your hand in acting, had plans of scorin it big,
“Sorry, you’re overqualified as an elf to star in the Lord of the Rings”/
The ears caused depression, that bullshit’s embarassin,
Booga didn’t eat for years. Aloe looked like the hulk in comparison/
You child troll, this will cost you a high toll,
I’ve battled tougher snot when I was like 5 old with a mild cold/
I’m battling a nigga with ears that surpass industrial size,
It’s Elian Gonzalez who apparently does his tanning in an oven sometimes/
You’re the type of little bitch that I kick in the head,
What you DON’T see in that pic, is Michael Jackson luring him into bed/
You underestimated me greatly, made a bad assumption,
Now I’m running circles around your lapse of judgment/
This ain’t cool, he’s got outsiders tryin to break rules,
Helping him find that picture of Kerry Kittles from grade school/
For food you would lick cock. Plus your writing is shit, TOPS,
Trust me, just follow Sprint’s lead and let the pen drop/
Old t-shirt, dirty face, holes in your shoes,
Grant Hill’s ankle wouldn’t be caught rolling with you/
It’s over you’re through. I aint astronaut Cobalt or a no-showing Angel,
Parent’s can’t afford a new bed, good thing he hasn’t outgrown his cradle/
We all know you’re not comin to America on a lift or a craft,
So I hope your dreams stay afloat cuz I’m sinkin your raft/


vs Rudge1/Diss Kabob

Resin has an adams apple? Naah, that’s a misconception,
It’s clear those are Fracture’s balls that haven’t been digested/
That’s why I’m leavin him dead soon,
Trying to be Fracture2, endin up MC Not Even A Flesh Wound/
With no room to run, all bruised and numb,
I’m know I’m facin DK, I just wanted to diss the dude that won/
Nice style Rooodge,
You drop a quick phrase for line 1, and a sentence longer than most haikus
for line 2/
Dope structure, BUT CALL ME ALLAN GREENSPAN!!
Cuz I’ll empty the reserve, give ya ass a look that’s cold then ZING! BAM!!/
Your wit has some soft spots,
So go back to square one like trippin in hopscotch/
I got photos of Prodigy, Redman, even Ja Rule with his click,
Holla if you got a tourney soon, these are pics that YOU can submit/
I’ll go to Chicago and battle this weak bitch,
Only thing you topping…is my pizza when I order a deep dish/
Nice tattoo of a butterfly, that’s as hard as it gets,
But why you look like a black koopa from the Mario flick?/
Do you smell what I’m cookin? I ain’t the Rock but damn…
…I just saw your nostrils and well, it seems as if you prolly can/
You’re gay. You wear berets and your dome’s lookin greasy,
All you need is a jail sentence and we got our own Adebisi/
Resin merked you. Even Sime knew your ass shoulda lost,
He counted Resin’s votes on one hand, while the other was jackin you off/
You ain’t from Chicago, start gettin real whore,
You got a city background so fake most late shows would kill for/
Rudge is a bitch, I knew from the get-go,
Only DK holding barrels has his own game on the Super Nintendo/
Named after a Nicole Kidman musical. His raps are all gutter,
Rudge’s first single is Eyes Wide Shut off his album “The Others”/
Fucka I’ll destroy your raps,
Only hot wax you drop…is over your boyfriend’s ass/
So start writing your ode to the afterlife,
Shut that trial talk up,
Only case number you got, is the code for your samsonite/
“Sup Ruudge.” “Hey Ry, I hope this won’t trouble you,
But please spell my name like my chances, no double u.”
Imma win it this year, it’s been a breeze to can ya,
There’s only Faith in Rouge when Bad Boy performs in Louisiana/


vs Phant (MM)

Seems like yesterday I slayed you, consider this day two,
Face burnt the fuck up from all the sonnin I gave you/
Please tell rosy cheeks to only speak when told to,
Go home duke,
Ry shot-callin like the muthafuckin sniper in Phone Booth/
You’re wack hopps. Face too red in that snap shot,
Already the Cinci baseball team offered Phant a job as their mascot/
A verse full of hick disses is what I could be sending Sime,
But who the FUCK writes an entire verse with the same disses every line?/
40 lines dissing apes, 30 against pedophiles. That all you can think to say?
If I was chinese, he’d submit a 50 line epic on why Yao Ming is gay/
Hopefully this verse will make Ceasar Phant disappear,
Tough matchup: my branch of followers vs the olive branch in his ear/
Phant and his boyfriend will be in love til the very end,
And like Phoenix sportswriters, they’re talkin ‘bout Marion/
I’m a fan of boxing, which helps when I’m exposin his text,
Cuz everyone knows Phantom punches aren’t known to connect/
Stick to text, it’s obvious you’re too shook to fight,
Bitch, I battled DK, you only sparred with a lookalike/
You aint even diss MMx. Before your face gets all blushy,
Tell me why your “diss verse” was more like a paper on monkeys/
As the illest you rarely get mentioned,
Don’t even dare me to question why you took that pic during a therapy session/
Looks like you digitally added that weirdo couch,
While actually being on the shitter, trying your best to squeeze one out/
Fuck all that. You look like you’re 31,
P’s such a tool, Black And Decker is sponsoring his tourney run/
I forgot what site we’re on. I doubt I’ll show yo,
How the fuck can I win, his face is the Prowlers logo/
Sime, the prizes are dumb hopps,
If Phant wins, please switch Soul’s CD for a bottle of sun block/
P LOVES freaks. There are shrinks that I suggest that he visit,
One minute he’s got a Muresan avvy, the next he’s posing next to a midget/
Since you stepped up, it’s time I bruise your frame,
Your doom is promised like pre-ordering the computer game/