weak flows and wack punches, this kid's embarrased,
the shit you spit here shows that your style is "Kareless",
i put sickness in ya life kid, dick in ya wife kid i'm the next to drop,
you couldn't write four lines if drawing a box on connect the dots,

connecting dots that's the wackest bar i ever heard/
you were kareless when you wrote it cuz that shit is absurd/
yes im about to analyze every word/
in the dark side of my mind above an ignorant nerd/

assassin is nothing more than a slim jim
with two asses in his name for him to stick in in
his lines are based analyzation
but how can he read without an education?

rugby got his flow from "wack r us"//
shit flatter than two kids hit by a school bus
vocabulary simple like retards on crack//
if writin rhymes was dinner all you is is a snack

Gotta show me somethen to impress the best//
Since you ain't, roux that faggot that'll get shitted on his chest//
Rhymes ain't worthy, best bow for you get broke//
Dumb bitch thinks of 'Cola' when I speak about that 'Coke'

Razh

fuck this screen battle i think u should worry about ya health
that wack shit u wrote-u couldnt sneak it in a song usin stealth
but i guess thats u fagget bitch yeah whatever floats ya boat
u aint got one grain of nicotine,homy, let alone coke
i aint even gotta see ya i let these rhymes choke ya throat
dick ryders and pussies yeah gon and represent for ya folk

your nonexistent son/ nobody believes in your flow..
flyweight means/ 'too light to even take note'..
think twice before/ coming to a cypher where ive posted..
your ass is pork or duck/ you gets roasted..
negative wins, negative sig/ your negative kid..
negative flow, negative typing skills/ but youre positively bitch..

i cant belive ya flow, u square, u worse than checkards
fuckin newbie, look at u i can make boobs outa ya record (00)
i kill with out layin a hand on u but i bet u gonna learn
u face hell when u come to me, guess its your time to burn
so dont eva come after my flow, bitch dont even try to battle me
ya rhymes are broke- oh wait u r to ya record shows ya salary (00)

talkin' bout records when your nil to one
motherfuckers like you defuse their own bombs
you're right about one thing it's hell against you
cuz your lyrics are weak still think your styles new
if your the moon bitch then here comes the sun
you reflect my skills cuz i'm number one
in case you can't count, you ain't a hero
your battle record suggests 1 comes after zero
talkin' bout salaries your skills can't make shit
bitches like you only make people sick
so i'll hit and i'll spit while you lick on a dick
you think your sick but your shit i toss you up in a pit
you think you ride or die, this coward just runs
with you tail between your legs like a bitch while my guns
blast at you, bullets harrassin' you
drop to the floor, you stay poor DaMoon who?

Now its my turn to blast Deceit,
this coward's so scared cause he can smell his defeat.
I won't say shit about ya fucked up ass spit,
cause everyone whos read it knows it sounds like shit.
You say you number one but ya sound like Ja Rule,
I guess thats what ya get from butt fuckin some other dude at school.
I say that shit cause I know its somethin ya like,
Maybe thats why there ain't no seat on ya bike.
Ya say you got a gun,well I think the saftey is on,
Maybe you should learn how to use it,cause I'm already gone.

I see you only have 7 post is this your first day
you think you the shit cuz you called a nigga gay
you say you gone well don't cum back
especially on that nigga's ass crack
I ain't say this shit to spoil ya mood
juust thought you'd might like a date with kooldude
i'm so uncuth when i step in da booth
to battle niggas who think they can freestyle
you wanna fight me cuz you saw 8-mile
lyrically speaking, ya mind is leaking
so get ya head right 'bignick'
n wen u do, you can suck my dick

M'CO YOU'RE GARBAGE LIKE EARLY MORNINGS ON MONDAYS AND THURSDAYS, I GUESS THAT'S A HERB'S WAY OF DISPLAYING HIS WORD PLAY, YOU AIN;T GOT NO HEAT FOR US THAT'S WHY YOU CURVED JUNE, MISSED JULY, AND SWERVED MAY. I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU GOT THAT RAPPER'S NAME EVEN UP ON YOUR ICON, I CAN'T BELIEVE YOUR RAP NAME IS EVEN ON THIS SITE SON, AND SINCE YOU SPITTING ALL THAT GAY TALK I GOT THREE THINGS THAT WOULD MAKE A PERFECT FIT FOR YOU SO JUST BITE ONE. SO I CAN KNOCK YOU OUT WITH MY FISS PLUS MY LYRICAL DISS, I GUESS YOU PROBABLY ARE BEST ON THIS SITE TYPING ONKEYBOARS INSTEAD OF IN FRONT OF A MICROPHONE MOVING YOUR LIPS. OH SO YOU WANNA TYPE CAUSE YOU SAW KRUSH GROOVE, I TAKE MY RHYME TO YOUR FACE PUNK AND JUST MUSH "KOOLDUDES". YOU'RE WACK SO CHECK ME OUT ON THE PRIOR PAGE, BUMP A 401 K PLAN I GOT 401 REASONS WHY YOU SHOULD RETIRE THESE DAYS.

This nigga IM whacker than tha dude he tried 2 rip,
You country bunkin don't be spittin that south shit,
Hush your mouth bitch,
Follow my path i'll tighten your style quick,
Wit my lyrical vice grips and tools,
Half tha niggaz here is whack i spit it sick for you fools

mr.mayhem, i'll slay him quickly, it's ridiculous you spit with no skill,/
shove shuffled cards down your throat so you can tell me the deal,/
to you it's hard to write, you can't see like Red Fox on Harlem Nights,/
you silly cat, battle me, you get one shot like gunfights with Barney Fife,/