Thread: Final 4: Deacon
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Old 02-02-2013, 05:08 PM   #4
trap.
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Battle: Deacon vs Psychlone
Round: 4
Winner: Deacon
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Deacon

You'll "die hard"er than John McClain when my words hit ya/
Your next career will involve posing for "before" pictures/
My shit's NC-17, you're not even P.G. one three/
You're str8 P, for pussy, better yet made for T.V/
You couldn't even see me with Hubble/
Bring that water style it'll get splashed like puddles/
Leave ya head "crooked" like "eye"/
I'm excelling like Hyundai while you still doing Book-It for pizza pie/
You'd be better off breathing toxic air/
Cause I send ya home with ya brain stained like shitty underwear/
Without Robin I'll make ya quiver/
200 proof lyrics rock livers, leave ya shit all damned up like the Hudson river/
The scuds I deliver, sink ya submarines/
Pop in a magazine, gun on ya click like the A-team/
You oughta call me Trapper Keeper cause I'll leave ya binded/
With shit that'll leave ya assed out like sittin on land mines/
You can't handle mine, avoid drama/
Suffocate ya style like bear hugs from anacondas/
Just because you was a boyscout with honor/
Doesn't' mean you can survive the mental wilderness of deacon, quick to harm ya/
Burning ya eyes like looking directly into nuclear detonations/
Deacon, the Black Encyclopedia Brown heading the investigation/
Wondering how ya made it this far with such ease/
To face Deacon who'll turn ya psychlone to a Bacardi Breeze/
If ya put ya illest complexities up next to me/
I'll reduce em to mere wreckage and scattered debris/
You'll get bricked like Reginald Denny/
If ya tempt me, you better be able to Sprint like lil' Penny/
This is your end/
Click on "yes" when asked, are you sure you want to send "psychlone" to the recycle bin?/
You couldn't RAP if ya name was REYNOLD'S/
Killer Priest applauding the way I drop this "Heavy" load on ya "Mental"/
Have you seeking Refuge, running for ya life like Richard Kimble/
because without SIME, I make defeating you look so SIMPLE/
Psychlone, you might as well go ahead and hit the exit/
Because your chances of beating me are slimmer than anorexics/


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Psychlone

Headline of local Kentucky newspaper reads:
"Psychlone Destroys Local Church. Deacon Discovered Dead"
Tuesday, April 28 was a sad day for the residents of a small Kentucky town. A well-respected DEACON was killed suddenly when a vicious Psychlone reduced an ancient church to rubble. Luckily, DEACON was the only fatality. Local authorities are puzzled over a strange document that was pried from the DEACON's cold dead fingers. The mysterious document read:

DEACON listen up cause I'm about to spit a sermon
Violatin you like Rohypnol (Roof-A-Nol) my wins were no fluke at all I'm certain
That ya style smells fishy like when heatin a trout
Yes I reckon ya reekin like the unwashed DEAC-in ya mouth
It's official when I dis you I Excel cause ya Write-so-soft
With 95 Windows ya couldn't see me like a night scope off
Ya lost like the Ark I'm like a spark when I set it
Ya spent Seven Years in Tibet but still there's marks on ya credit
Since ya like Frisco jails get impaled until ya torn bro
Cause ya DEVINE ability's like CANDI in a porno
Let the horn blow Taps ya can't grasp ya fundamentals
So bad the way ya dogged you'd think I rapped in front of kennels
My mental's able like cable out-boxin ya DSS
Which stands for DEACON SURELY SUCKS like Mendle, Obnox, and Stress
Ya flow would be a catalyst but Psych's on ya battle list
Like priests ya only beef comes in tums when ya saddle kids
A medical text couldn't heal the pain and frustration
Of DEACON'S sexually repressed feelings of anal fixation
Peep my flow while I DEAC-ompose ya wack verse
And treat you like Farrakhan's dick when I put you in the black first
I betcha even God checks the sky for Psychlone
See the Light shone on me the first time I left the mic blown
Attone or get sent to Purgatory with soul rot
While I coldcock and KILL this MC FIELD call me Pol Pot
I hold the clock that's tickin on ya time left in this Tourney
I'm so hot even The Three Wise Mens IM's said "Psych don't burn Deac"
They can keep their little gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh
Cause I wreak havoc on ya flank's defense with tank immense words
When this verse is done ya'll curse ya God and say "Please Continue"
Rippin through this Madness venue like the faggots greased up in you
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