12 lines max
no d/r
no hatin
no crew votes
clean battle
no feeding
no biting
5 votes win
no no shows
check in first

right here dogg.
ten to teweny lines.
you first kid

yo you ready?

A yo this fool couldnt be ill even if his rhyme swallowed a stack of toxic e pills/
Young brown, the peice of shit at the gay-bar-where-he-chills & snyper? he’s at a-r-where-he kills/
Fuck ya bitch made keyin-hypes..& fuck “stars”, ill make ya be seein-“stripes”/
As I slash ya with punch lines, ya next-in-line-to-get-ripped/
Ya better guard ya back cus expect-ya-spine-to-get-stripped/
My sharp rhymes will cut ya up like a callous sword...& go ahead, "call" for help, ill jus choke ya wit the "cord"/
Young brown, ya raps be like ya "faggot ass", not-tight-at-all"/
Its like im battlin nobody, this aint a hot-fight-at-all/
You an ill mc? Haha please fool . . . you useless/
"Bitin" all of various rappers lines got ya busted face "toothless"/
What a disgrace, ya ugly rhymes alone compel ya to cover-ya-face/
Protect my spits, throw a condom in ya mouth just to rubber-ya-taste/
Yeah ima retired vet. that rhymes, wont stop me to choke-this-fool/
Forgot bout this battle so can you blame me if I broke-this-rule/
Haha pleeease, this kidd young brown aint worth keepin-in-mind/
Sorry but I was sick in bed, & also had ya girl sleepin-in-mine/
So just like ya virgin dick, think of it as the time-to-wait...& jus like your puberty, accept the fact my rhyme-is-late/

dam, I knew I won from the moment you spit, with yo “E Pills”/
“Show me stripes?”, bitch you haven’t even shown me yo skills/
you only BATTLED lame rappers, that’s how you got your record/
after this you’ll be sucking so much dick to say sorry, that you’ll neck hurt/
Q-B-Snype, wit yo shitty lyrics, you couldn’t do-me-nice/
you’re tha 2-3-type/
yeah all I need is 2 to 3 lines and kiss yo ass-goodbye/
I’’ll stick my dick up yo ass and have it come out-yo-eye/
tha only time you “Punch Lines” is when you’re mad at some crack/
you beat the shit out of your drugs, and add that win to your stat/
catch one to tha cerebral, your game isn’t true/
tattoo my prints all over your face to let them know that I touched you/
bitch you couldn’t call tha shots in your own apartment/
you’re the type to hold mase in your glove compartment/pussy
slow muthafucka, you’re like a turtle on weed/
I’ma fuck you up so bad, I’ll make your computer bleed/
did that bitch on your bed also spit what you wrote down/
your record’s a lie, it should be the other way around/
who’s this mark tryin to act like a ‘Snypa’/
fuck your baby raps, I’ll knock you back to yo dypa/
if you changed your name to Tupac, you still couldn’t enter a cypha/
your name is a disgrace, I wouldn’t even type ya/
you’re a fake thugg like a gangsta with a plastic pistol/
or like a hard mothafucka that listens to disco/
Q-B cuz you a Quitter Bitch/
your raps look like you had a computer glitch/
this aint a challenge, I won from the beginnin/
you’re like the rims on my car bitch, I LEAVE YOU SPINNIN/


so what if i wrote more than i should, you obviously didn’t write enough.

you broke every rule i said
you went over the line limit
you were feeding off lines, what next d/r votes? your a disgrace to the site man

don't get pissed like your lyrics. you had it comin wit yo wack raps.
don't be mad cuz you got smoked. you swear you never flipped it on other poeple mothafucka. i don't give a fuck when that happens to me. it's a part of the game bitch. if you wanna cry about shit than get the fuck out-a-here. if it'll make your bitch ass happy, drop another verse.