I'm a christian preacher, my sermon has voice - I'm sending you to hell with flames as a germ for the void
Let's play hide and seek with the pistol, my bursting has noise - If 'Objective A Bomb' we're playing Search and Destroy
With the pistol, I'm blasting bars - I'm Sinacog, while you're 'acog in the wheel' with the fastest cars
I'll sun you, and you wouldn't be a gaseous star - and I'll 'choke the blue out of this man' to make him look like his avatar
When I blast the pistol, the slug will hit him - I'll show you what I have in store when I 'rob you on the streets' - it's none of your fucking business
This is a Big Pun all over again, I'll hit you with a drunken guinness! - I'll grab the pistol and ''give you two caps' that's a double fitted
If you grab the pistol, I'll snitch on you capisce' - when I grab the pistol, this bitch will be deceased
Forget your birth, you're a glitch or a disease - when it comes to Objective, and he 'digs for personal' he's like a bitch of the police
When I grab the pistols, it's like a college graduation - I'll leave you with caps, please! You could 'roll cocaine in weed leafs' you still wouldn't be a rap fiend!
Try to steal the show, and I'll snap thief - he's a topical head - so when he's venting, I'll 'air him out' till' he can't breathe
I'm a knight, and I'll slay this brook - you couldn't 'see the light' with David Cook
the Bible is my favorite book - but I'll grab the pistol, and 'POP you in the Hood' like fathers in poor neighborhoods
I'll grab the pistol, and I'm out for blood to dump this thief in the crypt - you're a wack rapper - believe you are him
When I rap, I'm deceiving this kid - we don't care about your lines, we're like Ludacris - saying 'Move bitch get out the way' like cheating spouses leaving the crib
My topicals are a rapping anthem, you're a peasant - while I'm Mickey Mouse casting magic
When you write, your raps are tragic - this scared pussy's going to no-show, you'll 'see this kid going ghost' faster than Danny Phantom
My matics' have the right poise, when a bullet 'sticks it to you' I'll give you static with a drum voice
I'm pulling AK's, clapping with the right poise - and it'll 'clap in black's ear so loud' he'll be hearing nothing but the matic's white noise
I have guns, my aim will burst - my complex ak47's will kill you in a complex - I'm killing this laymen first
And when it comes to hip-hop, you'll never pertain to worth - I'll dig up so much 'dirt on black' you'd thought I was a Ku Klux Klan member saying racial slurs
Against me? You're in a bracket of hell, like 'Illmaculate's commercial attempts' I don't know if your tanget will sell
One word from this faggot, and my matic will dwell - I'll ‘put black in a box'...isn't that the color of the matic and casket as-well?
When it comes to matics, my rounds will duel it - I'm the type to 'bring a gun to a knife fight' and clap and pull it
I got matics hotter than Sandra Bullock, - while this pussy's the type to play Russian roulette...without a bullet (LOL!)
My matics have a dragon cuneiform, I spit hot matics - while this faggot's rapping putrid poor
I'll let the matics blast though your door, - and I'll clap you with 'every weapon in my arsenal' wearing a afghan uniform
I'll grab the Ak47, and shoot with lots of raw, - my gun's name is Todo - it twists with a soft bark, - while this bitch is a putrid knock off dog
My bullets are like newspapers, your column's useless snob, - and I'll grab a gun from my Mustache (Musk stash), - and you'll think I'm Adolf Hitler from the Jewish Holocaust
When i shoot matics, my bullets will be heavy - I'm putting this phat ass on the 'balancing beam' this duel will be his levy
I have surprise guns, I'm cool with the confetti, - and I heard you got sonned, and 'fell to your father Resin (Raizen)' like a knock off Yusuke Urameshi
I'm certain I'm very witty, it's like I'm GrimmReaperZ - I'm burning you with clip heat
My matics are burning you up shit's creek, - I'll kill 'black out with the beam' like I was purging in your city
vs.
[Intro]
You say that you're the greatest..
When you really have no one to compare yourself to..
You're unclean.. and tainted by her touch..
You will now be.. cleansed by the flame
(0:49 on the beat)
Born quite prodigious, wild and transforming like Optimus,
Tore your esophagus with the force of a thousand storming rhinoceros,
All of those that doubted me in the beginning now have regret,
When I'm slashing and cracking necks, leaving you blasted with dragon's breath,
I was born as a psychologically damaged and wicked person,
Spreading biological famine when handing you sickenin verses,
I'm torturing you 'till you feel suicidal, just tripple as worthless,
Killing you while your asleep in hospital beds like twisted nurses,
A mind of rickety circuits, presence so strong it's rippling curtains,
Lighting innocent virgins on fire 'till their clitoris is burning,
A slithering serpent, hissing at clerks when I'm pissing in Mervins,
Living in churches, interrupting the verses in different sermons,
Emcee Sini immersed in this world as a hated monstrosity,
Spitting sacred prophecy, and building pain and ferocity,
I spit sound waves that travel through space and make comets burst,
Breaking barometers in my vicinity as far as eight kilometers,
I wasn't born 'till I heard rap- call it a late birth,
Straight beserk, possessing a style with enough strength to break earth,
Emcees quiver like crack addicts. Call it black magic or flat madness,
You rap faggots are gettin wrapped in plastic, trapped in your dad's attic,
Choked 'till your asthmatic, Sini is a mixture of fire and ice,
Setting whole crowds ablaze, sending 'em chills when I respire in mics,
Ever since I was tieing people to railroads I've been killing on tracks,
Still spilling the blood of your children if you have the steel to my back,
I spit illness on microphones, That's the reason I move crowds,
Emcees are getting eaten alive, spewed out soon as I chewed down,
Packing a smooth sound, being released, and as soon as I turn loose-
I'm setting fire to your vessel at seas, leaving your whole crew drowned,
A mad bastard, pulling out of my stabbed flesh with a black dagger,
Trap master, so whenever I throw my hook I'm leaving you cats captured,
When I spit, I'm a monster, so I'm not to be stopped or chained,
Never forget; Emcee Sini, the prophet's name..
***
A cancerous spitter, I see rappers prance and dancing in glitter,
Like a glamorous sister, but I'm equal to more of a slanderous swindler,
Laughing in embers, Cinders to the community park when I spark a blaze,
Filling up a bath tub with all of your vital body parts and bathe,
Forgot why I was sent to Earth, so I determined a disturbed purpose,
A mind full of multis so long they won't fit into your word searches,
My minds a perturbed circus, and it hurts 'till my nerve's bursting,
Absurd cursing, leaving you shit on even worser than bird perches,
My verved words form a style that's based on calculated mathematics,
I fascinate with flatness, and fracture your dad's rib cage like *snap* bitch,
Defying gravitation, catch me masterbating on the planet's axis,
Fan of axes, leaving the back of your neck full of damaged hatchets,
Hand me a matchstick, Swallow it and spit fire like satanic practice,
That's the reason that I fuck it up everytime that I'm handed chapstick,
If all you bitches try to proclaim that you're the bestest ever in rap-
And have even yourself fooled, I believe your a damn good actress,
You want to be a mathematician, but you're bad at handling factors,
You want to be a writer, I'm the critic that's slandering chapters,
You motherfuckers' whole scripts in this play were void and dull,
Destroyed with acid in a boiling hole, I was born to annoint your soul,
You don't get Sin, your style's just a hit-trend, you get cleansed,
Your a bit dim, not only that but your flow is dirtier than Pig Pen,
You and your big grin, thought he was top but the game tricked him,
Hip Hop has an orgasm when I spit lines like I just stuck my dick in,
I make life shiver and freeze when I touch the shimmering seas,
Quivering emcees turned to embers, relatives endeavor it, bicker and plea,
Quickly flee, 'cause really, the mental in me only seems to snicker in glee,
Wants to play with you, stretch out all your limbs and split you in three,
Trying to be taught a sanity, 'cause unlike most, I started insane,
While starting a name, unfortunately some starstruck with fame,
Like a wild animal, you have to tame it before you can harness the game,
It comes from your heart and your brain, but it all starts with the flame.
vs.
This is direct connotation. Or is it? I’ll resurrect Thomas Paine when, he wrote Common Sense. Who’s the best on vocation? Home-schooled but on vacation. I’m old-school. I’m Sinatra’s face. Frankly, you're not the same. Couldn’t erect a pretense that I’m creating, through the unrealness to allocate this. Look in-between the correlation, I’ll skeet on your mommas face. Indeed the sea of semen in blotchy places. You could see I plopped it on a certain locked location. If you connect the dots, you’ll allot a constellation. I went Ursa Major on her Canis Minora. We consummated. You couldn't shapeshift to save your life, I'm on euphoria. I need a consultation. Distressed. While orchestrating; a gang of wolves to eat you, while playing, Mozart's Requiem D-minor. On rotation. The lithiums' got me off-the-wall. A quick sketch compilation. You couldn’t predict my awkward state. By awkward state, I mean I’m on the fence insane when, I hop the gates to California. I’m off to Vegas. If I cock a waitress, does the AIDs I fucked her vague with, condensed to stay in Vegas? That's awfully vagina of you. & this is Survival of the Fisting. I’ve mutated, from hobbit case, to robotic rapist. Godzilla with finesse of God’s creation. Crowd thriller, count syllables. It's the Cloverfield monster had sex with Walter Payton. This is intense confrontation. You couldn't have intent to stop this pace with, double-edge-tipped oscillating, drill-pressed lava plagued-drip automation. This events' a provocation of all six-senses from M. Night Shyamalan, - if he innately thought to say. Salam Alaikum. Met Mahatmas in the Bahamas and made fun of his name, @
BWHAHA arranged it. I'm Ghandi teaching Dhalsim the kick-leg thin-stretch pressing six-X combination. I’m an indexed incarnation of having sick sex, molestation. I have a sick sense of masturbation. Forget my occupation. Just nominate me. I’ll inject Obama, facing, six counts of incarceration. I insist on the operation. Select to embalm. It’s suspense in my palm. When I read it, it tells me to disconnect you from across the nation. Infect biologic rations. It's cross-checked. Some say I'm like Satan, with a pure touch. Imagine the Lochness in a velour tux, causing riots from an ionizing basin. The type of concoction phasing that causes primary caustic flaming. I love reading binary naked. If you translate the 00100001001's to sex 101, you'd see the vagina's flanking while the penis try escaping. Traumatic inhale. Oxidation. The next segment. Godly Mason, and truly I'm the Illuminati w/o the Illumi-. Illuminating, with an intent on motivating. I invent and procreate, the most incestuous postulate. I split eggs, like ovulation. Get your sig checked, if it doesnt have darth in large quotations, you're not amazing. So much suspense, you ought’ to say, you couldn’t suspect an ounce of what my chakra sprays. Let’s commence to walk away. I’m a split-end, on the hair of Samson, & It’s Darth today. I'm VERY handsome , and its fully sunk-in, that this Hulk is hunky. I'm immense. And on occasion, when I rhyme, I emblazon. X’s and Xross-terrain. They call me the ironic machine. Have sex in your Jeep 4x4 with a chick whose lies' are- she's sixteen. On my porch I’m laden. To a mortal state. Where more than often I create a mortar slate. An apex. Distraught equations. Steven Hawkings pacing; breathing: "it's p-h not v" I'm sorry Pheven. on his wheelchair buzzing his buzzer. I'm content just rollerblading. (he’s jealous that I have smaller wheels, but faster.) More revolutions on rotation. Killing my mistress, gripping chainsaws, like goodbyeeee, I’m crazy.
vs.
Battling me is the height of danger,
Before proceeding you’ll need to sign a waiver and a five page disclaimer.
My style is like a semibreve, yours is like a semiquaver - it’s clear that mine is greater.
I’m a rhyme creator with such a fine design it’s like each line is tailored,
The kind of mind you keep inside a cryochamber.
Your life’s a failure. I despise your terrified behavior.
To repeat: you must sign the liability clause before beginning this introductory course.
You’re a nobody - an insignificant pawn up against the king of this board,
I disregard your assault with a dismissive response.
Killing you off by swinging a sword with more individual torque than an infinite source of physical force.
Your continuous struggle with the simplest thoughts is an unbearable spectacle.
I’m the G.O.A.T. with the acronym serial, and I’m the 7.15.1.20 with the alphanumerical.
Smashing your pedestal, as dangerous as open flames near flammable chemicals.
My craft is impeccable.
What you craft is adequate, acceptable, but in comparison it’s actually terrible.
You’re trying to battle the perennial adversarial language professional,
That is hysterical. Challenging me? Incomprehensible.
You act as a receptacle for gang banging homosexuals – you carry more semen in your gastrointestinal tract than a hundred men carry in their testicular sacs.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
I’ve grown accustomed to defeating such queer opponents,
You must be huffing robitussin or be in a state of post-concussion to believe you could overcome my deepened focus.
I’ll beat you until your hemoglobin hematoma, I’ll beat you until all hell freezes over.
I’ll beat you until you cease your motor functions, my modus operandi is to murder in battle.
There’s no discussion. My style completely surrounds you like a circular angle.
I’m extraordinary, generate hype like a celebrity scandal, you’re merely average like a representative sample.
Your existence is worthless, a shamble. You’ll get your best verses dismantled.
This is a perfect example of the Hegelian conflict: if you make a statement I’ll refute it with such reasonable logic that we’ll both agree on it.
Compared to me you seem like novice.
While we’re keeping things honest, if someone said that it seems that you’re complex what they really mean is you’re nonsense.
You’re getting beaten, demolished, defeated and admonished with each repeated performance, like…
You’re a stenographer - I’m a professional lawyer.
You’re a rain drop - I’m a torrent of water.
You’re an interstate tourist - I’m a 15th century explorer.
You’re a bandwagoning fan - I’m an overzealous supporter.
You’re a male nurse - I’m specialist doctor.
You’re a pat on the head - I’m a brain hemorrhaging trauma.
You’re a wasteland - I’m the pleasant Bahamas.
You’re a microwave - I’m an infrared sauna.
You’re a crawling baby - I’m a Gold medalist vaulter.
You’re the prime minister of Tajikistan - I’m president Obama.
You’re a struggling playwright - I’m a bestselling author.
Basically, I’m better than you in every conceivable way. No person alive can conceive of a way in which you could defeat me. OK?
You voluntarily battled? You must be insane.
Not to mention the fact that you’re seemingly gay, meaning the way that you seem would appear to be gay.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that - I can even wreck you with call-backs,
Step on my warpath and you’ll get ejected like launchpads.
I’ll pressure your thorax, step on your chest like a doormat.
Defeat you on televised broadcast until you beg for redemption like Shawshank,
I’m better across any genre or specialized format.
Impressive with words, the Patriarch here like the Orthodox Church.
You’re just a peasant, a serf. An insignificant individual living in a Mongolian Yurt -
In terms of comparing our relative worth: I’m the cover of Forbes and you’re covered in dirt.
You defeat me? That’s fucking absurd.