you POOR CHICK i shppt bullets at ya dome n leave u on da FLOOR BITCH/
i'll blaze this WHORE QUICK im ill u givin me da flue will just make me MORE SICK/
ya gonna quickly DIE MINI ME/
cuz the way i knock ya brain loose you wont know ya EYE DENTDY/

eewww yo.

Rymin doesn't suit U/
Ud better say all Ur gonna say befor RapBattles boots U/
Who the fuck U rapping bout? Like Ur mom, Im a grown man/
kickin Your dome in, while Ur brains exploding on the hot paivment/
my bullets'll have U spinnig in the air like U tryin to brakedance/
I'll have going to church, prayin to who evers willin to listen/
the only trick Uv ever done was when I made U come Up missin/
My pistle'll shatter Ur cranium like Crystals/
ashes in the air while punchline rip through Ur mental tissues/
My vocabulary'll leave U wit more issues than Spider-man comics/
My wrestler skillz'll levitate then drop U just to make My Bomb "Atomic"/
to speak on Me, U must've lost Ur head/
change Ur signatur, U should be lookin for Ur lost talent insted/

I had to get back at you "Eye":

Even if I could possibly understand the slang in yo whack ass name, my opinion of you would remain the same/
Yah just a sorry ass dude who get's confused on who's the teacher and who's the pupil in this school, mayne/
You're the number one in this class hun, but your also the worst, son/
I drive around in a fucking hearse, leavin' em dead when they realize I won, mon/
Were you talking trash or was that really yah verse?/
My bad man, I guess yah fucking bubble is burst/
Why all this niggas tryin' to fuck with me, am I that good a femcee?/
The truth lies in that statement, but this "Eye" refuse to see/
I think someone may be blindin' yah, cus what you typin, sah/
Is worth just as much as the shit you drop in the "potty", duh/

miss dyke i 'kill yah line' and seperate your words to 'fill yah time'
and spread yah seems just 'tilt yah rhyme' so u balance yah 'mind'
yer dreams 'cut into shape' u 'rust to masturbate'
but u still see the drama of who 'ate yah cake'
u so blind sited i 'stole yah optics' and i 'rolled yah body'
into a bag while u 'fold like chopsticks' and i 'tolled yah hobby'
i leave u 'battered and bruised' and u got 'hatted u loose'
like a slut, u havent been 'mattered like the other prostitutes'

Australia has a hood, But aint no body know about it/
I'll make ur downunder ass do backflips, while going middle east like chines Riots/
just to relax my Ears, I'll cut Ur fucki throwt/
This niggaz rymes are nasty, like Micheal Jackson Up close/
I'll put U to sleep, wit out the use of sing alongs/
Then make U have bad dreams about havin to listen to Ur own songs/
My tolerence level is lower then Miss. Lyricist's IQ/
I'll beat U like a drunk uncle, while Ur mom scream out how much she does'nt like U/
This Cypher is part of my Yard, so dont let my rymes "BiTe U"/

Miss. Lyricist
I feel U miss, but U gotta admit the last line I wrote on U that involved something of that matter realy fuked u up. I dont realy wanna speak on U no more. Id rather battle U and get points for it. this goes for alllllll of U who think ya'll can go toe to toe wit me and actually grip the mic wit pride when U done. I aint the best, But Im damn sure close as fuck. I should get and award for rippin everybody whos ever spoken on me in this cypher. yeah Im cocky, I dont give a fuck.

Holy fuck, you ain't "cock"y, you just SUCK!!
I'll pick your sittin ass off as easy as "lame-duck"

Half your shit didn't rhyme and the other half blew
If I was you, I'd keep my "eyedenty" a secret too

If you wanna battle man, hit up my name
I won't spit more than 4 bars, cause you're ass is too lame

I'll give you an hour to spit half a fuckin page
You best visit EMC for some "wise"dom, cause you're sure not "sage"

:thefinger :thumbup:

poetic prophet, i got have your nuns and their knees lickin my balls//
ill hit ya name up, but when it comes to battles ur rap always downfalls//
lame-duck? i bet this kid in jail be droppin the soap for fun//
wen hes suckin my cock his eyes squint from my cum, u damn asian//
really are you gay? u would pick his lazy ass up or something?//
i mite have been too hardcore last night, sorry i broke ur moms bedsprings//

One Man Band
 

ONE MAN BAND IS A FUCKIN BITCH. YOU JUDGE OTHER PEOPLE'S SHIT, BUT WON'T WRITE SHIT YO SELF, YOUR A DISGRACE.

I CHALLENGE YOU TO A BATTLE..

P.S HOW YOU GONNA TALK WHEN YOUR RECORD IS 0-1.
YOU LOST YOUR FIRST BATTLE, WHAT A WEAKLING. LOL

FAG, OVER THERE QUOTIN ROYCE DA 5'9 LIKE HE'S A FUCKIN POET.
SUCK HIS DICK....

stfu...spit and stop freepostin...and eydentity.. no offence, your verses have content, but your flow is not present brah.. aignt tryna start no beef, but whena nigga who be writing paragraphs and essays in battles, dont mean shit... if i wanted to i could write punchline after punch, and end up with a page just for 10 bars(20 lines),, nah mean ? dont get to cocky, cause ur record disagrees wit u being even close to the best... and plus who spits there real material in a cypher ?.. i sure dont.. maybe i migh tlet slip a nice punch here and there but i dont spit to win, i spit cause i love hip-hop.. so chill,, this is my last freepost dont worry lol ...

Yall must have forgot about Krairo/
we'll I been on my grind gettin hoes/
stackin my paper up and sellin more CD's than your local record studio/
its true I'm a fiend hustlin in my blood/
I sell more than CD's so trust me I'm good/
I admire Hoops for sayin what he gotta say/
but HORUS(thetruth) what the fuck are u ok/
I see u pissed or your keys are sticky/
u new here so I'ma give u exposure like Janet's right titti/
now u can hit me or diss it really don't matter/
I'll leave u chopped up like sushi on P.Diddy platter/
maybe its me and maybe its not/
but how the fuck u come up here wit 7 posts thinkin u hot/
your battle records blank like paper/
I don't know what worse u or quaker/

thats all I gotta say I'm done its a wrap time to go back to writing

a yo, you need to check this/
the only time i get pissed is when i'm pissin on your head bitch/
accept it, i'm the best in this section/
it's like i'm your Jinni and you really have a death wish/
my flow is better, you'll get roasted to toast with letters/
7 posts, but i'm still a micrphone holdin expert/ your rhymes are dead, put them motha fucka's on a stretcher/
in the last page i was playin at first/ and then the dame with the purse, (One Man Band), complained but never came with a verse/
and now your mad at me, suckin his dick/
while my lyrics are stuck up, and ain't none of your whack rhymes fuckin with this/ i might just be up in a whip fuckin your bitch/
rubbin her clit while i'm suckin her tits/ you should think harder and then try to come up with a spit/
coz your style is just disgusting and sick, thick and so hollow/
but i see why you don't spit, you really like to swallow/
shit, you think that you can do me, make my day/
but my record is no losses, and it'll stay that way/

Eye, sorry, brah, I don't battle bitches. No offense, but you just come up with the same shit that these other niggas try to play me with. Not only would I tear your ass apart, every line would hack you up and send your limbs to the four corners of the earth. But whateva mayne. If you close to perfection, I'd sho hate to see sorry for what it really is.

feel like spitting.. so ima spit against you miss. <3 :p

heres a riddle, whats big but soft in the middle/
and her stomach changes colors more often than skittles/
you wanna step correct my rhymes will shatter ya text/
ima batter ya neck, until from you i force me respect/
I bring more truth in my scriptures than rel-igion/
Load-up lyrical-AK's..and begin dipensing vocabulary ammunition, best believe my targets getting hit-in/
man ill destroy you inside out like cancer-to-skin/
you beating me is like skinny people playing russian roulette,chances-are-slim/
truth-is, im gully, gutter and ruth-less/
if i slapped you wit a gun-vest, you wouldnt know what proof-is(bullet proof vest)/
so holla when you think you worthy of gettin slapped-down/
cause honestly ya rhymes are funny, so guess that makes you our class-clown/

bleh.. fell off on that last part