k heres my drop..16 or so lines...


30 is a bit much for a battle lol


::g/l::


You claim to be a kill-a but on the real-uh im the one whos know to thrill-ya//
You rap for fame but your spits are too tame too lame you stay the same as i get ill'a//
My lyrics put yah mind at a bend, you struggle to comphrend my divine rhymes//
Its impossible to defend against my hits, slick rips writing themselfs, creating sublime lines//
I call a Spade a Spade kid.. you claim to draw blood when ya only spilt the heinz//
I swayed and slayed Killa-MC-, took the time to feel ya out now im callin your bluff//
Ive had enough of this kid who fakes being rough, you front like your tough//

my moves flow with the groove
my poetic scripts stay sliky smooth
you suck so much dick your know as the hoov (hoover vaccume)

The time you spend to compose a basic verse could be better spent arranging your own herse//
My key writes be to insight-ful, this ''MC'' gets merkd untill he's flat line, announced by the nurse//
You cant defend my verbal slaps you can only step back and reminis about the fudge you usta pack//
You try and befreind AC, the real MC ya cant handle my lyrical attack with one crack I lay you on your back//
Quit the bitin and recitin of past rhymes youve used accept that youve been beaten brused and abused//
I choose to end with this line, one last rhyme dropin one last lyrical dime, man it takes no time to make ya used n' confused//