4 rounds (me vs anybody)

i pump rhymes like bed springs
im gettin head from yo girl, meanwhile; yo palm springs
i drag u out da club and burry yo body in palm springs
u only got a couple stacks, i spent that on one carrot in my ring
gold and diamonds on my wrist looks like celulite
u a hustler on a diet, u sling light
my gat'll have u on all fours like my bitch
im like a magician, i still do tricks
i fry niggaz like falafel when i step in the booth
i see yo grill, but i spit more diamonds than u got in yo teeth group
i live in da city where the children aint scared 2 shoot
u fake niggaz quick to get 2 da camera when a movie shoot
i make more figures than the noise factor
u still slingin hand 2 hand like a greenbay packer
u can spit a lil bit, but u aint a rapper
y'all fuckin up the rap game, like a grill-wearin cracker

I'll vote on this one man... fuckin sucks when cats dont vote, someone drop a verse back

i'll go again then...

i put niggaz tops back like the chevy company
the reason why y'all hate is coz yo bitch is humpin me
y'all niggaz manage mcdonalds and i own companies
i handle the panel and unload this clip company
u niggaz hate but in yo jeep, y'all bumpin me
i beat down niggaz and leave em at the bottom of the sea
y'all hustle local and i get my shit from overseas
every half a bar i sting niggaz like the killerbeez
u aint no rich boy, so stop trynna throw some d's
10 guapes a day, like alicia im movin keys
y'all starin at my ice, trynna catch a breeze
i pick fake rappers off the plate like peas
my pockets like the nasdaq when i up my re
talk shit; i run yo house like dmc
my dick is pipe, she gotta go 2 rehab 2 let go of me
in my hand i got the roaster that'll gumby yo shoulder b

the only key ever you pushed was the one to your crib/
you ain't a hustla,... you'd switch terms under a bid/
and turn snitch like the bitch you are, son of a pig/
I'll make you sing "my little teapot" wit a gun to your ribs/
you a sissy bitch, throwing hissy fits for attention/
you never earned a buck but learned to suck a dick for a pension/
I know this faggot is hatin', but how you own companies/
and be living so comfortably unless your dad is a Mason?/
I'll batter your face in,... break your nose and leave your jaws achin'/
lackin' the patience, rape your hoe and leave her sprawled naked/
fully automated, blow your dome apart, ya life is worthless/
we can go to war like Joan of Ark for the righteous purpose!


quick 12 for you, i'll be back later, saturday nights busy

just like a veteran, u homeless and crazy
obese net nerd, u a myspace dimepeice
u say u wanna blow apart my domepeice
if u did that, u'd b swimmin in a pool of rhyme sheets
i'll cock back the tech and get technical with ur body
i press the gat 2 yo scalp, on yourself; u potty
stop cryin, its dinner time, now eat my tech shells
that aint cheese on top; thats yo brains on the steel
yo hoe dont wanna fuck me coz she like her ribs all in one place
plus, she dont want me to extend the width of her face
after this rhyme, u gon' b swallowin my boots
fakeness all through yo roots, wrap u in a carpet suit
get yo blood on my loot, yo neighbors hollar and hoot
drag u 2 da front and mehanically decapitate u
as ur body rot's, yo blood turns into a thick juice
head split in half, yo skull throws up a deuce

you fuckin' wit a vet and what I'm writing's sincerely ill/
git out of line once, chump.... I'll have you biting the steering wheel/
I'm the reason why your mommy left your dad and divorced him/
and you the reason why every pregnant bitch should have an abortion/
you'll git twisted like contortion when the hammer reacts/
family strapped, when the cannons clapped your granny collapsed/
lost my mind when I was eight, that's where my sanity lacks/
so at any given time... my nine 'll blow your battery pack/
where you git off like you gangsta?, I got twenty goons with masks and gloves/
to run up in your crib wit loaded semis zoomed, and blast ya mug/
I'll murk a klan member for racial discrimination/
razors leave his hands severed with facial disfigurations/
based on the shit you sayin', you a bitch and your rhyme's weak/
I know the envy starts kickin' when you listen to my beats/
I find out you snitchin', you'll go missin' for five weeks/
decapitate you slowly and expose it on Live Leak!

round 3, you up!

Good shit bruva'z

P.E.A.C.E

rhymes written on the bullets i put in yo head
yo blood run thick like lil waynes dreads
i came at a nigga armed, this nigga fled
u aint a hustler, u sell oz 2 da feds
wait, dont yo bitch hustle raw for me?
and dont yo sister put her cuchi lips all on me?
yeh, true, i guess thats why i was itchin this mornin
im an abstract lyricist, y'all niggas common
i dip niggas heads like oreos
they welcome me back to sumatra when i drop my flows (tsunami)
i eat dead rappers alive like im a crow
u a snitch mutha fuka, to the cops; he crow
aint u canadian? aint no bacon in yo flow
dat gat to yo ribs make u fall back in slowmo
u a gangsta on cable nigga, i pop crome fo really doe
im twenty laps ahead of ya, man y'all move slow
my ora shine thru babaylon, marley on my clothes
i take out the microphone and aim it at my foes

nice shit both of ya keep it up (cough cough get em hookz!)