Battle: Deacon vs MC Frânçhíze
Round: 2
Winner: Deacon
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Deacon
Hit the deck, my canon balls cause mass destruction/
As you've seen, testing me could have severe repercussions/
My flows render you useless like a blind seeing eye dog/
My rhymes are complex constructions while yours are simpler than Lincoln logs/
When I'm aim at you, throw in the towel/
My flows move you to losers brackets, they only thing your flows move are my bowels/
So take me serious, I drive mothafuckaz delirious, just try and check me/
I'll permanently stop ya flows like a hysterectomy/
Leave ya beheaded like the legend of sleepy hollow/
Physically disproportioned like paintings by Picasso/
Midget minded MCs like you can't hang with Deacon the Colossal/
Because yall still got yalls lips wrapped around baby bottles/
I ought to, stay out the game due to unfairness/
Easily making' it appear that your skull has nothing but air in it/
Tracking you down quicker than Budget when you don't return their rentals/
Leave ya with an "out of order" sign hanging on ya mental/
Do you remember, the mythologies about Hercules?/
He was based upon one of my past lives; the writer was just observing me/
Deacon comes off hotter than mercury, Franchise, you're irking me/
So I'll make like Kull and conquer ya shit, most certainly/
As soon as I'm inserting the, mic cord, even God's like "oh lord"/
King author was possessed with my spirit when he pulled out that sword/
Ignore me? Shiiiiit... you'll find ya self on a rotisserie/
Years from now kids'll learn about your defeat in world history/
Mothafucka, be actin like defeating me's ya life mission/
I could easily take you out, even while holding my dick and pissin'/
Cause if victories were equivalent to pussy, I'd have more than Wilt Chamberlain/
The Ku Klux tried to recruit me because of my marvelous record of hanging men/
Franchise, I thought you knew that I easily shatter grills/
And that challenging me's worse than facing off with Michael Myers in Haddenfield/
While downing sleeping pills on your way to Elm Street drunk/
Cause Deacon the Lumberjack's ax swings leave ya stumped/
So don't get you hopes up on receiving any votes this week/
Only an email from "SIMPLESIME" announcing defeat/
Peace
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MC Frânçhíze
Virtually no flaws, they microscopically implanted on me/
Flow runs deep, strength constantly grows rampant on me//
I'm the one liable for your death/
So strap on that oxygen mask and take your valuable last breath//
I'll fly down to your churches home coming just to torture you/
Let you try out this tux and casket that I brought for you//
In 21 flavors is how Frânçhíze is assorted/
While you possess one method you just nearly afforded//
Meagerish rhymes remain warped and contorted/
You hold less weight than fat cats running traks by Nortik//
I'm growing sick of your spiritual attaches/
You wouldn't blow up if you stood on a combustible tank filt with lit matches//
Spike your holy water, leave you feeling inebriated/
Capsize your rhymes left everyword abbreviated//
V. (Verbal) App. (Application) Ins. (Inscribed) Ind. (Indefinitely)/
On different levels, you'll need more then 30 vertical yard sticks to measure thee//
Visualize me in my godly position at the horizon/
If you the top cat I'll be sure to see that all of your 9 live end//
There's a reason behind Deacon's appearance as frightened/
Scared to face me because Frânçhíze is enlightened//
He trembles at the fact that I easily over power his writings//
Doesn't have any audio's, my presence makes him afraid to plug his mic in//
Drain his muscles of energy, results in lost control of his bowels and bladder/
Vaporize your eyes so you can't see me motioning thru matter//
Swiftly to decapitate your ego filt head/
A new definition to losing your mind, mentally dead, from verbal pencil lead//
Ending this congregation, closing passage will be your final/
Deacon X'ed out himself cause that above Sermon was Suicidal//
(Watches Deacon fall to his eternal resting place.....spits on his victom....fades into the darkness)
MÇ Frânçhíze "That Conceited Bastard"
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