battle vs mind theory (round 1)



Fuck holding tight; attack with scolding strikes; ur lines contradict like ur current status on the Open Mic//
Sharp spit's flowing spikes; I'm flipping ur card; like back in the days on the spokes of strolling bikes//
Ur numbers getting tossed like rolling dice; cat couldn't be rocking mics performing with heavy metal themes//
I had a dream; attacking petty teens with steady schemes pages from notepads aimed at ready teams//
Ur rhyme's half-assed like heavy jeans;hearing faded screams; putting guns to gas; metal to petal means//
Rhymes carved in glass are see through;heat missiles don't hide they just blast; 'n go seek you//
My series dramatic; the pain delivered traumatic; pragmatic theories u lack it; connecting with dope lines like a pair of addicts//
Have ur vision distorted as if u were staring at static; flows charismatic; kid's breathing twice as harder then frantic twin asthmatics//
Only time ur rank will rise; is when RB decides to ban the non participants//
I stand ground; kid I'm tired of ur monkey bars go change your name to playground//
Stay down or get sleighed clown; this dog couldn't be on track if he was greyhound//
I'm far from a merciful bully; purely spitting to hurt you truly; send you to the holy land prematurely//
Unbelievable like fables; the decision making enables u to fold under pressure as the pain scolds; face won't dodge the curve landings//
Striking fist attacks form a verve landing; lightning kicks vastly swarm; I serve branding mc's; there's no feeling to your flow like clogged nerve endings//
Plus your ovations don't deserve standing; like performing in front of a crowd with wheel chairs//
like a bum with no-cares, and a heater pointed blank at ya head, you still say ya prayers//
Face impact aligned with steel stairs; u winning is like trying to feel air; blazing scripts; when it comes to skin; I peel layers//
I'm spitting; splitting spleen stands; n slitting skin strands; as u sit in slings; n casts//
I'm skimming scripts n sinking ships; sending silent screams as ur mom sings at mass//
U couldn't make a melody mixing strings n bass, that don't mean fishing dumb-ass//
Originality ur rap lacks; brought an applaud-o-meter to this; let's measure gun claps//
Around u I run laps; ur a square mc; endlessly departing scripts and parting lids//
Hit u while unguarded bitch; have u look dumbfound like locating lost retarded kids//
Not the one to be starting this but I'm sparring with; flow engulfing sinking ships//
This bone-head supposed to come hard? He reverts that process like shrinking dicks//

lol.....aiight finish this wack ass off:

Mic checks checkin a chin let it begin, goin to win//
Your takin more body shots than people playin drinkin games with gin//
Standin a chance against check? safe and sound?//
Call this battle the final...so step off the mound rocket cause this yer last round//


good luck