Official Freestyle Thread

It was my sixteenth birthday, july seventeenth
Accounts was low, wallets thin, would heaven sink
today? We had the average cook out, in eighty degrees
Partly cloudy said channel nine, an maybe a breeze
My brother Cohen kept crackheads out, think he was sellin
Trap or die he stay sayin, the nigga's a fellon
The ridin dirty blastin, that nintey five u-g-k
My kin an friends mixed like water and koolaid
It was harder to fool ray, on the court wit pump fakes
B-ball fun would distort, when sum nigga pumped brakes
Tire die on the street, smell of burnt rubber...
Sound startled the cake holder, so candles burnt mother...
Grandma came out wit hot grease, me an my niggas thinkin
Don't call the cops please, K stashed away the keys
No apologie, i see both of'em laughin'
My little shiesty brother got old milk out a trash can
Screwed the top off....smelt it an smerked
He threw it in they window, white chunks on they shirt
They jumped out mad as fuck, and i got incentive
To hop the fence an, have'em reported missin'
Called my peoples out the house, time for two on two
Even thou it coulda been a whole crew on two
One said fuck walnut hills, so we started rockin'em
I scooped one from behind, like change we was droppin'em
My brother pulled me off of one, sirens in the distance
K said from my eighteenth, he's hire'in a piston
Those hoes got back in they car, talkin hella shit
Tryin leave before the cops came, that's how we drop lames

vicous war crys i meta-morphasize into a demon// schemin wit wicked lines while bitches beg for semen// so they can give birth 2 a god i throw dirt over live souls if we squab//microchip embedded in my brain so if we set-it off// i switch 2 killer mode iller flows will get u wetted dog// pathetic weakling simply fuel 2 tha fire// i whip many "mules" make rappers "asses" n liars// third degree "burnin funny niggas" like richard pryor// wizards n witches just wishin they shit was tighter// because my magic leave warlocks in envy// i spray mythical wordplay till my staff empty...

man im disecting words like ghostface killah/
call me the doctor cause im curing bored minds/
or call me thrillah cause im exciting like dat fight in manilla/
my imagination is like a clock it just winds/
i can cook tasty rhymes like the chef raekwon/
still in a strugle though show of ur jewels & i will take one/
im humble see i watch what i say/
but step up 2 me and i'll dance around u all day/
like the boxer ali formerly known as clay/

I rhyme below the poverty line, the people's king
My lyrics "take flight" like they choppin a eagle's wings
Gut u like pigs, feed the fish wit ya livers
Mister Big get the pussy, then throw yo bitch in the river
Wit cinder blicks tied to her chin like bike helmets
Watch the water turn red like where a belt hits
To me, "beef" is like pussy, cuz i "eat it" "rare" bitch
You "cockroaches" get off my pipe, go beat a bear dick
I'll tie u down an crush on of ya balls in a juicer kid
One of the old hand ones wit levers, u push down an fluids drip
I'll lock yo pregant girl in my freezer an ice her
Then wit yo other ball, i'll dice it in a boiled egg slicer
Take three inch needles and stick yo right hand
And bang them shits in, with a drawer from yo night stand
Tie yo ankles to seperate trucks, on the hitch dog
One goes east, one goes west, one leg gets ripped off
So u got no balls, a broken had, and one leg
Now i line yo fam up, an' say "all or uno", which one u want dead?

ayo...

these men r "mice" i hunt em down tha lyrical "falcon"// skull scalpin exposin puny brains for smart mouthin// par shoutin as i twist his head round tha opposite way// till tha shit poppin off fluids erupt a bloody display// in a hoody skull faced i b tha reaper// heat seekin wit tec 9's n direct lines tha gatekeeper// fuck testin "fate" im death lay u in ya "restin place"// collectin souls as i blow bones killa sess inlaced// better invest in coroners n coffins//i disconnect ya life "cable" ur tha "show" that im watchin//throwin windmills n im laughin bobbin,weavin and boxin// "stone cold stunnin" these sons like "steve austin"//...

mighta recycled tha steve austin line(damn im mad doded lol)

Lyrical lightning, strike deep fist fightin'
Writin' these blights, and might maybe
Chance I'll beat your baby, I'm crazy
Hazy on what it means to be Pat Swazey
Roadhouse bouncer, trouncer of mass amounts or
Lice, your lease on life is like you leeches
Beetchs, thesis with punk polices
Sheepish, follow the hollow and swallow
What the fuck your told, toad stool fool
Too cool for school? Drool desk wettin' retard
52 card pick up, ya arms this is a fuckin' stick up
Quick up the shut, or get cut, gun butt or what...
...ever I think is clever, cleaver of meat, beef retreats
Red beets bleedin' on my food, you mashed potatos
Soft, splattered tomatoes, hey those...chains look nice
Might it suffice to give, or I slice and you may not live
Seriously, I'm deliriously dangerous, I'll hang in lust
Blood yearnin', burnin' curtain callin' fallin' star
I'm far from sane, it's plainly remained from
Cocaine stained veins, I strain and stride up the street
Explained insane frame, this pain I hide inside is deep
So sleep tight, nighty-night and don't let the bed bugs bite
I creep right, boogey-man, I'm way gone sir...call me a closet monster

what can i say imma redneck/
n i like ta shred necks/
when it comes to the game of killin im the best bet/
str8 outta montana/
sportin a red n black bandana/
fuck with me n get ur back split like a banana/
i rap jus like ma brain works, slooow/
aint got no complex flows/
ma dome feels like a bomb bout ta blow/
when its time for u ta die/
ull get str8 up crucifide/
steadily creamin WHY/
as the nails get pounded in/
ur now within/
the mind of a psycho/
thats deadly like blow/
i dont battle rap, givin emcees headaches witha mic throw/
then strangle em with the cord on tha stage/
till blues the new color of ya face/
cuz i saty real n nothin fake/
fuck nugg, schwaggs what i blaze/
with the nastiest taste/
makin me confused n dazed/
cuz imma juggalo sub/
neva shown no mainstream love/
n neva wanted any/
cuz ma few homies show me plenty/
while uz cruisin in ur bently/
im on the streets beggin for pennies/
n this freestyle aint worth one/
i was raised suburban/
n i fuckin hate workin/
hardly ever went to church n/
we jus some local yokals stayin drunk off whiskey n bouron/

hot shh.. in this thread fo' real!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by AcidPhosphate69

Lyrical lightning, strike deep fist fightin'
Writin' these blights, and might maybe
Chance I'll beat your baby, I'm crazy
Hazy on what it means to be Pat Swazey
Roadhouse bouncer, trouncer of mass amounts or
Lice, your lease on life is like you leeches
Beetchs, thesis with punk polices
Sheepish, follow the hollow and swallow
What the fuck your told, toad stool fool
Too cool for school? Drool desk wettin' retard
52 card pick up, ya arms this is a fuckin' stick up
Quick up the shut, or get cut, gun butt or what...
...ever I think is clever, cleaver of meat, beef retreats
Red beets bleedin' on my food, you mashed potatos
Soft, splattered tomatoes, hey those...chains look nice
Might it suffice to give, or I slice and you may not live
Seriously, I'm deliriously dangerous, I'll hang in lust
Blood yearnin', burnin' curtain callin' fallin' star
I'm far from sane, it's plainly remained from
Cocaine stained veins, I strain and stride up the street
Explained insane frame, this pain I hide inside is deep
So sleep tight, nighty-night and don't let the bed bugs bite
I creep right, boogey-man, I'm way gone sir...call me a closet monster

---

U should always spit like this!

Edited out, i just dropped this and its too hot for this thread, i need its own thread for it

rate me on dis

wats dat noise here comes tha free child/
supa dupa son dat boy he wild/
fighting villains for his rightious cause/
dont care about the others does not hide his flaws/
he's dat boy born in britain but from bangladesh/
thinkin bout his lyrics he always bangs the best/
he's dat boy who even wid out new new cloths looks so fresh/
categorize dis boy u have 2 put him in da x-file/
its wu-tang bengal bustin on a freestyle/

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Wu-Tang Bengal

rate me on dis

wats dat noise here comes tha free child/
supa dupa son dat boy he wild/

Flow isn't stretched which is good, the concepts are basic and said before.

fighting villains for his rightious cause/
dont care about the others does not hide his flaws/

The multie u used fit pretty good. Concept is ok.

he's dat boy born in britain but from bangladesh/
thinkin bout his lyrics he always bangs the best/

The third person writin gets annoying here, the concept in the second like is played out

he's dat boy who even wid out new new cloths looks so fresh/
categorize dis boy u have 2 put him in da x-file/
its wu-tang bengal bustin on a freestyle

The flow is off on these lines, the rhyme scheme is basic, the concepts have been said before, but all writers start out sayin stuff that they've heard before but in a different way, u jus gotta break away from your influences and come up with your own lines that have never been said before. :thumbup:

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Peace

dont fuck around n get ya jaw crushed n dissolved dust//niggas spittin fiction thats pulp plus they all suck//faggots "ball bust" more than "pool players" spray em wit tha laser// bent off tha eye glazer da mind fader// secretly "fatherin" u niggas like "darth vader"// dyin slow askin "why?" like "jada"// kiss if clips hit bitch fits u kids get// rugged misfit who flip bricks n sick shit// when piff lit u tricks get tha same if u trippin// reality u barely grippin 2 im chill sippin goose// kill ya self like ya hit tha switch for noose//

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Sleep Sinatra

dont fuck around n get ya jaw crushed n dissolved dust//niggas spittin fiction thats pulp plus they all suck//faggots "ball bust" more than "pool players" spray em wit tha laser// bent off tha eye glazer da mind fader// secretly "fatherin" u niggas like "darth vader"// dyin slow askin "why?" like "jada"// kiss if clips hit bitch fits u kids get// rugged misfit who flip bricks n sick shit// when piff lit u tricks get tha same if u trippin// reality u barely grippin 2 im chill sippin goose// kill ya self like ya hit tha switch for noose//

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I flow like cruise missles locked on target.. flow marksman.. innerds all over the carpet...I'm dialed in rotisserie, motor rotary, while mainstream is sold at sotheby's...fork lift thoughts ready rock to educate diseased...that contemplate hate, desecrate inner peace...all for crumbs of cheese impoverished need...Iv'e lived the code of streets...know how to hold the heat...and duck the Popo moving slow gumbo...made a small fotune then I was out like abortion...now I pay a portion on the straight and narrow...watching them bluebirds swoop down on sparrows...I make wise choices with the knowledge i've obtained...remember our society is what must change...In order to make a stand we must take blame...and build a new foundation that holds no chains.

freestyle cus im bored
dnt know whats in store
whore of the game what u selling out for
forty four for's skills or lack of imagination
vacation from senses leave mc's defenseless
relentless wit scripts legit wit rhyms
lava hot flow but the names liquid lines
entwined wit hip hop untill its time
reapers coming so im pulling out 2 nines