Battle Rules:

6 - UNLIMITED Lines
No Crew Votes
No Recycling
No Biting
3-0 KO



Minimum posts to vote: 20

Check in by: 09-12-05 at 09:25 PM

Must drop verse in 4320 minutes after check in.


Win by 3-0 KO

Daemon has ACCEPTED this battle on 09-09-05 09:26 PM.

XxHavocxX has ACCEPTED this battle on 09-09-05 09:26 PM.

Welcome to Rapverse, here comes the meat,
Fresh off the hook and bought off the street.
Newbie is here, the Green one arrives,
But these kind of rhymes can change your whole lives.
So let's see what you got, Daemon, let's see what you spin,
Cycle of poetry, from beginning to end.

__________________
Havoc

John, we'll live in the same house and be together forever, my sister,
And I pop your donkey more then I pop my plastic pistol, oh yeah.
Flow bad, I know your dad, we talked on the phone I was like 'you bad'
And he's like, that's not true, I've got snacks, I'm teh mofuckin' nomad!
I'm sorry, but your poems suck, and no one wants to be like you...
I set up a punching booth man, so genius can finally strike you.

I've got Nikes in my backpack,
I've got Adidas in my snack pack.
I wouldn't be Dr. Dre if Eminem could rap sad.
I'm not mad, but I'm glad you're a trashbag,
though I'm disgusted you ate off a hoebag!

OOOH!

- owns. -

That's just sad, a tragedy of sorts,
I hope you're feeling at least a little remorse.
What's the word for that..Craptacular, perhaps?
I'll be #1 if that's how everyone here raps.
C'mon, Lou, step it up a notch,
Because I've scraped better rhymes from the hair on my crotch.

Maybe you've tried to punch a mime,
maybe you've tried time after time,
but maybe that's because my donkey,
and he's in a mask, but doesn't play hockey.

He'll slice you, dice you, maybe even splice you,
I'll be a chinese jew, so the Koran can rice you!

Bags, rags, sags and flags,
Patriotism, isn't that sad?
All summed up in miscellaneous verse,
That seems to be Louis's Curse.
What's wrong, D, scared that I'm here?
It was your idea first, so you caused your own fear.

Baby, I brought you just like my lunch,
and I've got eight in my pants, call it the ocho bunch.
I'm crunchie, and at the cafeteria I eat cheetos,
I couldn't be a ham if you were meat fritos!

Rackin' and sackin' and lackin in skill,
Cover up weakness with all of your frills.
Don't be so careful, let it all go,
Don't let yourself be some newbie's ho.
Lou, it's been fun, but we should let it end,
Because that verses we've spun could be classified as sins.

Endless verse, every man's curse,
could this fallacy really get any worse?
Lou, you're a girl, you've even got a purse,
I hate to say it, but you rap like Fred Durst.

Maybe we'd be jews, maybe we eat glue,
and maybe it's strange I say I love you.
But girl, you and me, that's a perfect match,
like lighters and fighters, eating a belt latch.
I'm sorry I'm fat, I'm sorry you have pimples.
I'm sorry my chin is imploded with dimples.
But keep it simple, we're both poets,
and I put socks in my lunchbox, even if you dunno it.

You may not show it, but you love me too,
I'd handle the stink if I walked a mile in your shoes.
Maybe I'd even jog, or maybe even run,
and maybe one day, your dog will be my son.
I married a bitch, and I'm only thirteen.
I've got more bologna then lunch meat!