50 Caliba vs Flawless

[Saint]

Wodie.com World Wide Wodie Tournament 1999 Finals

Final Round: Opponents Chose Thier Own Topics
32 Bar Limit

.50 Caliba:

Chosen Themes: Fighting & Sharp Objects

Flawless, I'm tossing you around like white-men-in-caught-in-the-projects/
My topic is me and you fightin-with-sharpened-objects/
Like when I throw darts-with-an-aim to put parts-in-ya-frame/
And smack you so hard I knock the fuckin thoughts-from-ya-brain/
Throw punches back at me? I'll catch-ya-fist and snap-ya-wrist/
Now how you gonna jab? Your hands look like a pair of saggin-tits/
Let me brag-a-bit, and tell you how I'll treat your coward-ass/
I bash both sides of ya waist 'til you resemble an hour-glass/
And with power-smash you directly in your throat-and-bladder/
Making you choke-and-stagger, blood soaks my 'cloak-and-dagger'/
Your robe-is-tattered from nunchukas-and-sais and punishing-rhymes/
Fucking-with-mines you get punched-in-the-eyes hundreds-of-times/
Succomb-to-the-prime, I 'pitch-forks' to split-hearts and snip lips-off/
Witne ss your limbs get ripped-off from a vicious hip-toss/
Flip your insides out and lock you in your own rib-cage/
I'm stickin-spades in your ligaments, hips-n-face for six-days/
A sick-display of scare tactics got you white-as-a-pearl/
Brawl with me? You can't even win a fight-with-a-girl/
You got your head down, swingin ya arms like your swimmin-son/
My pendulum is splittin-tongues, rippin-ya from shin-to-gums/
And when-I'm-done, I'd have slit open all ya body-parts/
Used to be 6' 3'', now peeps stare and say "God, He's short!"/
You should have trained-some-more, cause you got maimed-in-war/
My squad came-in-hordes and made you swallow flaming-swords/
Then I stabbed you til you "shed-the-light", then beat your head-with-mics/
And 'pinned' you down so you could 'rest in peace' upon a 'bed-of-spikes'/

Flawless:

Chosen Themes: self-explanatory

Fuck pride, I could ruin-yours/ but I'd rather you-win-more/
Cause seein' a verse tighter than mine would be worth losin-for/
You fit the internet rap stereotype/
Put too many words in a line and barely-flow-right/
As for sports, the only one you'd beat me in is runnin track/
Cause you get practice everytime you hear I'm comin' back/
What's even worst is/ all the football players you flirt with/
Holdin' cheerleaders' purses/ gettin' tackled on purpose/
Your first kiss was from your coach, and he didn't have to force you/
Even tried to make miniature golf a contact sport too/
I don't need a ball to batter your team/
I strike-with-heavy-blows, hit the mic-with-deadly-flows to shatter your dreams/
No matter the theme, my rhymes are clever/
You'd need a Game Genie for Tetris to put decent a line-together/
If you find-a-better style, its cause you saw mine and studied it/
So when you see me, don't expect buddy buddy shit/ you're gettin a bloody lip/
Mix games with horrible deaths, after you get your head tossed/
I'll rip your arms & legs-off/ and leave a jigsaw puzzle for Red-Cross/
Whatever's left will be gangrened/ fuck it, I'll change themes/
To artist/song titles and explain what your name means/
You're .50 skill, the rest is hype/ shoulda left the site/
After me, you'd need a 'Deep Blue Sea' of holy water to 'Bless the Mic'
In 'Retrospect for Life', your mom shoulda been pro choice/
If you look 'Just Like Daddy' I can't believe he got the ho moist/
Left with no voice like Bahamadia/ 'I Pity You' like Mama Mia/
I'll burned you more times than Ol Dirty with gonorrhea/
Make your 'Head Swell' from cranial damages/ when they remove the bandages/
It'll be so lumpy you'll finally get compared to Canibus/
I bring my enemies pain/ 'Buckshots' til my energy's drained/
Won't be a single 'Stray Bullet' you'll feel like Kennedy's brain/
Then 'Murder' everyone at 'The Funeral'...none of your friends'll-remain/
'Kill Em All' now you can't even exist on 'Memory Lane'