RBL Classic Match: Richard Corey vs. Sur*5*ILL 1/30/04

[KempoMRK]

Richard Corey

it's time to bring back the rhyme...




I got these pussies in my grip! Lyrically bombin’ ya fam!
Sur.’? Fuck ‘em I got him ‘eatin’ out’ the palm of my hand!
Anatomically scan for movement, let the Howitzer buck…
Ya winning streak done ‘ben’ over’…it’s about to get fucked!
Just for your ‘info…Red’ ya lyrics? Rarely, this geeks miniature
I burn Sur.’s posts from the feet, and lyrically ‘heat signatures’!
I awkwardly, awfully dance with rhymes, so scratch ya record
Fag can’t ‘think outside the box’ … like Paltrow after Seveni
Cuz he’s a faggot clone of a clone…ain’t no hoping for him
a Fracture fraction of Calefaction…
with semi-colons on the end!
I’m sneakin’ this bitch! ~ 24 lines for him means12 punches?
But my ‘set-ups’ are ill so I Punk’d him ~ Speaking of which…
I’ll take him up on a plane…and before I blast and shoot ya
ask if ya wanna see the gun-‘butt or fly’ like Ashton Kutcher…
Rich opens wounds and ‘burns the gaseous’ like Dirigible flames
Leave ya neck stretched like the wordplay of your original name!
Sur. 5 ill? THE FUCK?! Yeah I got it, but how wack can you get?
So I’ve come ‘end to the Force’… just like Police Academy 6!
And ‘stop the funny business!’ His ‘ass’ll leave with hurt sores’
But then again…check out the size of the meat that Surf’ boards
every big cahuna, Sur.’s rode! Cocks just find his ass cheeks
And he gets his ‘face fucked’ more than botched-up rhinoplasty!
7-0? Ain’t getting’ 8… like weak stomachs and meals fortified
with porcupine quills!
For Dick, he’ll ‘go down quick’ like organized kills!
Intrical topics with intricate rhymes mincin’ thru invincible objects
Send ya wack ass home…I bean-town’s tossin’ missles and rockets…
Can’t get wit’ this bitch! You can barely spell, I’m descriptive with it
You ain’t ill! You’re wack name was about as (sic) as you’ll get…

vs.

Sur*5*ILL

This Motherfucker's 25?!?



This faggot is Elderly; And Sur surely whooped him early;
I'm pulling out all the stops conversely he's pushin thirty;
Sur's the face of terror; I'm never wrong or shaken ever;
I'll leave 'Cor-wrecked', Flawlessly without making errors;
In a vacant era, Sur's claimin the title, flowin with force;
While the closest Rich'll get to 'Arraign' is going to court;
Noone supports this geek, but my style happens to rock;
This is such child's play; Even Fakulty is jacking the box;
You're graspin my crotch; Ya Islamic? ya breath I'll take;
But nobody believes in Rich, since Cor-on a test of faith;
Dissect his face, Sur's in First place, But this Nerd's gay;
& 'puts' 'quotation' 'on' 'everything' 'not' 'just' 'wordplay';
The herb claims 3 areas in location get this bitch a map;
Then again...his home is the type with a hitch attached;
Skip the crap; if You dropping flames, I'll massacre that;
Sur-Ender? Nah, It's just what you'll do after the match;
Your tactics are wack, I said 24 & He still drops a novel;
Claim DC? must be the reason ya ain't notched a Marvel;
He's lost his marbles & is balding; a hat ya fond to wear;
Even the chip on his shoulder gets lost in the fallen hair;
Mauled this square & angels are coming so go to church;
He's fearing a brush with death, but a comb over worse;
I'm Showing Purity next...Ya embracing Obscurity's text;
Nig's trying to pay his dues, with social security checks;
You're worried and vexed, old ass, steady your gimmick;
I 'drop-heat'...ya SO old ya can 'drop-dead' any minute;
Lemme just finish this off; the verse is the goon's proof;
but his shit was so forced it was induced by prune juice;



Next.

This battle ended in a Tie