HardCoRe Rhymes only...
this is for experienced mc's, who can rhyme more than 2 syllable words, if you can't do that, then get the fuck out....
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creatin harmony through my philosophy
distorted atrocities influenced by words lost to me flows leakin like a colostony(colon surgery) the shit just flows constantly (wordplay leaking=colostony=shit) mics im rockin see, watch as i take the money from your pocket g slash your cornea's so you cant even identify me.. any half ass rapper that steps to me, ends up deceased quite rapidly im tappin beats, bitch slappin defeat candidly, i dont use the standard keys i wont be another weak mc who dies tragically, my flows are the magic you need when my rap played, leave the club in a frenzy indeed some call me lucifers seed, others call me SplitSouL as they pitiful and plead not listenin, cause im stickin to my murderous creed the stars and the heavens agreed with me before i take over this rap game, i must shroud myself in secrecy then when im a household name have all these rap industry cats fleein me SplitSouL is shifty, spittin the shit quickly, attackin you with rhymes that leave you feelin miserably enhance you spiritually, with the power of my words lyrically when my blade introduces itself to your bloody meat i perform a ritual to lock the two matrimoniously have you germ infected with a simplistically deadly disease SplitSouL in a haze from all these canibus leaves flows meetin the standard, plus excels and exceeds WITH RHYMES LIKE THESE, THERES NO WAY I CAN'T SUCCEED!!! uhhthats actually a written, should have put it in open mic, but i wanted to put it in here to start off the shit, if you got feedback lay it on me.... |
hey! someone who can actually back up that title!
herbs are shit stacked at the right height for my dig/ the kind of guys who feel the need to say they're white in their sig/ like that matters, all you gotta do is leave the mic in tatters/ put out the brains of those who filled with spite and splatter/ i'm doubled up from laughing, at freeposters and net gangsta's/ creep boasters, aint even hard enough to be wet pranksters/ it think i'm seeing the future, check my sophocles predictions/ all will come to pass, if you take these verses and mix' em/ |
I aint trying to dis,
I'm bouncedoggydog the sensationalist, I persist to exist caught up in that chronic mist, always got some bud or a mic in my fist, from the twist I can't resist, Im just a mad scien-twist, the reffer-cussionist initializing your bliss I'm the herbal pharmacist and ganja activist loquacious lyricist from the crew you can't dismiss or get beat with a shoulin Fist!!! weed warriors do exsit deep in the 420 forrest evading all capture and arrest were known to be armed and dangerous The THC Terrorist clandestinie within our mist employing a eulogist just for the fakers who try to dis another zenophobic ideologist converted into a self proclaimed appoligest you heard it from Mr bounce the ryhmeologist! This is my very first post of any type, so I would really appreciate any insight into the functionality of this forum. I am new to this, but I have been writting ryhmes for ever now. I am just looking to see where I stand. I am not claiming to be the bomb or anything, I am just testing my skills. Mr. Bounce.... |
yo i gotta spittin soul thats splittin souls:
vocals take control as i walk on my soles: now i'll retrovert and convert my rhymes: so u can understand mines, get wit the times: since i cant spit the futuristic intelligence: cuz ignorance blinds the minds of limitless: potential, its essential for me to succeed: if you cant comprehend what u read, im forcin u to bleed: kick u in the crotch ! watch ! prevent u from havin seeds: i'm done wit this freestyle that faded your gay smile: stay a while and write your own to the beat off a battle on 8mile: |
Atilla known to rip cats on tracks with a lyrical bloody battle axe/
Cant see me properly, then u better check your cataracts/ Matter fact im always flippin over cyphers like an acrobat/ flows juss crazy and rhymes priceless like an artifact/ Im better then most people make em think they hypochondriacs/ the lyrical quarterback dishin out hard lines thats full contact/ Got my m-16 gat , u know im ready for military combat/ My lyrics always on point like archery i go beyond that/ and bomb maps and residents, till they collapse/ Got corked gats ,so presidents are after my ass/ I uppercut the enemy and break down his anatomy/ My verse is complex as a whole, kinda like astrology/ The lyrical and spiritual messiah, breathin in the physical and emotional desire/ gots to force mc's to get hung with they mic cords and retire/ |
I'm stepping over dead corpses/
wielding my sword on black horses/ battling the dark forces/ engaged in combat ferocious/ inflicting nero pyscosis/ keeping mentally focused/ as I ravage like locust/ splitting skulls quite atrocious/ dead corpses rising from the grave in slow motion/ witness to black magic and hocus pocus/ a zombie armies approaching/ the shifting sun is now scorching/ and our churches their torching/ im a soldier of fortune/ fighting a walking abortion/ slicing into small portions/ these demonic distortions/ utilyzing endorphines/ resisting satanic absorbtion/ my faith is my potion, salvations the notion/ baptized in the ocean, a life long devotion/ hear armegedons commotion/ fallen angles encrouching/ our souls they are pouching/ Just a little something to think about, peace out from MR. Bounce! |
Let me tell all ya mc's something...
Im fuctional cause I watch my back/ stacked with gats gettin ready to attack/ Trust is something I dont believe in/ Its a war dawg everything is deceiving/ I am receiving the visions of Judgement Day/ So I pray to god when it ends let me have the play/ This is a Game you either succeed or be popped/ dropped to your knees or be at the top/ Look up my name when ya need a true friends/ cause I dont leave my homies till my life ends/ What I said is what I ment, never repent/ cause I never gave a fuck as long as my message is sent/ Its time now that I should end all ya mothafuckas thinking high/ dry out your blood, cause I dont give a fuck/ Im stuck up, crazy in the head/ remember me cause I will never give up till I bleed to death/ |
lol this shit gettin hot!
yo my rhymes are miraculous they causin elation concieved before creation, now bumpin in stations across the nation i'm losin my patience, kids think cause im caucasion my lyrics won't cause some devestation ive been in prepartion, since the dawn of time my rhymes define the meaning of true 1st degree crimes destroyin ya enzymes im on the frontlines my battle crys contain religious tyes im the un-holy christian (oxy-moron) throw ya soiled corpse through plains of non-existence i fear no resistance im in it till the end ill be in the apocalyptic battle causin mayhem like ti-tens(titans) lol |
Now this thread is getting hot, mad props to those who trully drop...
Attention...... I'm known as the ryhme general/ battle tacticle in weaponistic lingual/ Infiltrate annialate and take the flavor of your pringo/ Devistate incinerate and decimate your stello (style in spanish)/ with my biochem robotic mechanical clones/ and my infra-red heat seeking thermal imaging dones/ all controlled by my sat-tacticle phone/ Nano technologies/ advanced weaponologies/ Best give your appologies/ don't fuck with a prodogy/ My heavy artillery/ all prepped for delivery/ along with my infantry/ all dressed in stealth battle fatigues/ armed with the latest technology/ improving agility/ through my exo-abilites/ at a secret facility/ Incoming ballistic missle threats/ I greet them with an explosive effect/ Just another succesfull intercept/ I shoot'em down with no regret/ I'm a master of counter intellegence/ Your airriad sirens blarring in full effect/ Your every strike I detect/ I deploy and protect/ Firing verbage and nucluer dialect/ your vulneralbe when my cross hairs intersect/ I'm warning don't engage my intellect in conflict/ |
please niggas, i got mo’ flow than you got “ over-bite”/ ya whole style is over-“hyped”/ mo’ than some in-a-Cashmere-bargain-basement-with-a-dildo-shoved-up-they-twat-til-it-damn -near-touch-they-shoulder-dykes.../ (ooooohhhhh....)
watch me spin a single uppercut n’ laugh as you castrate ya father/ especially since i kick sick scriptz mo’ times than you’ve been ass-raped at tha Ramada.../ nigga you couldn’t rhyme on my level standin’ on a zip-code worth of phone books/ cuz you couldn’t hold a emcee in “check” if you were tha Lyricist Lounge givin out a Christmas bonus.../ Grym'll fillet you bone-less/ here take Flava Flav’s dick n’ orally hold-it/ cuz that’s tha only way ya spitz could “touch emceez,” so i guess ya persuit to get signed is essentially hopeless.../ cuz as a emcee, you’re about as “sick” as a anti-bacterial-strain sittin in DeTox.../ which is why im whipin tha flo’ wit yo ass ‘til ya face got mo’ “scuffs” than a used pair of Iverson Reeboks/ see, when you spit, there’s alwayz “sumthin missin” like shoes wiffout laces.../ thats why ya only hard bars be tha ones i just stuck through ya face kid/ face it...you “sorrier” than Ike listenin’ to sentimental music playin board-games/ (think about it) n’ just think, i didn’t put effort into this cuz i know you wack...i could embarrassed that ass in MORE WAYZ/ bitch, go back to dubbin over lil’ Zane, cuz that seems like yo "Forte".../ |
sick......................
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yo i got an issue with tissue
constrict crews then double check just to make sure i didn't miss you some would label me a psychopath the type of cat that when in wrath skips the battle and heads straight for the aftermath im clearin out the trash ill destroy you without apprehension lyrically put you in a state of suspension in another dimension i cause tension when im up in a cypher i conspire to watch ya whole clique feel the fire my words get spit out like an automatic typewriter i got writers block like a motherfucker lol.............. |
yo im merciless
destroyin all hospitals, rapin nurses i drop my monicle and let the evil disperse this my truths chronicle causin the darkest of curses ((brought up in christianity, but now im burnin churches)) my unholy purpose is to make corpses full of distortions simple coercions, cause me to put ya in the worst of contortions your blood stain the fabric of persians im subterranian yet subtly sub-urban some unsolveable mysteries be occurin i leave ya chest disolved, and leavin ya breath purrin' leave less dna then the shroud of turin boilin cops blood for brew, charm the pope into stirrin' your words be slurrin', the pain is to much feel the agony of evils physical touch trapped in a room with torturous tools and such have your flesh ripped like the orifices of virgins and sluts uh like that yall |
yo yo the names misunderstood,
better watch yo back when my crew roll thru yo hood like white dawg said bitch fuck what you claim oh you a thug then why yo crew aint said a fuckin thang come at me nigga ill make you hot like 50 you wanna think you a gangsta ill buck you real fuckin quickly got gangstas on my block that show you no fuckin pity im from Columbus nigga and this is our fuckin city. not towards any nigga in here thats keepin it poppin do ya thang this shit is ill son |
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