I was trying to be creative here... tell me what you think... check it...

Yo, if rap’s like basketball then I got mad handle,
spitting slick rhymes to break anyone’s ankles,
with these verbal examples,/
I be the MVP, slash illest MC, as you can see/
I be the fucking point guard,
too hard for all these rappers who’s game is too brittle,
see me dribble, down the middle and then shit-all… over y’all, getting sick of these calls,
man I ain’t fouling y’all,
or traveling at all, fuck y’all,/
It's all nonsense, feel my concept,
straight from the eastern conference,
let me tell you man my offence, is often,/
impossible, to stop-at-all,
I’m quick to fucking hassle-y’all…

It’s over, my cross-over,
go through shoulders,
leave heads like they not sober,/
have them falling, stumbling,
inaccurately functioning,
all while I’m dunking in… their faces,
with these verses, many cases/
man I slam like Kasam,
half man half amazing like Vince Carter,
my plan is to advance as the lead starter,
blazing my rhymes a bit harder...
then all the competition, through all the sport’s season,
I score with raw precision, I ball beyond description,
and all is non-fiction/
now let me stop bragging, said I got it,
let me show you that I have it…

I’m ah shake you, break you,
take you to the net,
and never let you get…
this ball in my hand, upset you with a sham,
you’re not a player, you’re an obsessed fan,
like Em’s Stan, just an upset man, who can’t stand…
the fact, that you’re really just whack,
and cannot handle the rock,/
so just stay on the bench, or get drenched,
with the imminent stench...
of defeat, in bottled in my spit,
got up now straddle to your sit,/
cause dawg you ain’t thirsty,
long from fucking worthy,
to rock this jersey and shorts,
so let me keep this shit short,
if you ain’t fit for this sport,
then take your ass off the court/
I bet you sweat, soon as it gets to the net,
from three-point land I hit it nothing but net/
some come on, let’s get it on,
I street ball like And-1,
taking on bout any one…

The streets have taught me this sport,
my feet don’ touched every court,/
from Rucker Park in Harlem,
to Madison Square Garden, and it’s harden…
my skills, a great deal, for real,/
so now I got my street game face,
to leave the mic piece blazed,
with both my Nikes lased,
and all my rhymes in place,
to leave your team disgraced/
ain’t it amazing how I’m blazing the scene,
standing awake while you’re still chasing a dream,
and while you’re searching I’m still facing the rim,
rock in my hand ready to place this thing in…

And that's that... thanx for reading... peace

http://www.rapbattles.com/forum/sho...6684#post296684
http://www.rapbattles.com/forum/sho...6764#post296764