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#1 |
Senior Citizen
Join Date: Aug 1997
Posts: 3,870
Battle Record: 4-3
Rep Power: 0 ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() |
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12-26-2001
Black Ice (http://www.******.com/forums/vault/member.php?u=1389) My flows are lucent in darkness sightin' Fantom's execution with targets Within' the scope to pierce ya throat and bruise you the hardest Ice creates martyrs~You'll die for the cause of exposed flaws I'm flame retardant so before you speak of illicit heat, you should pause I'm compelled to rip ya shell~Pull the ghost and throw him in hell Imprison ya brain with a spell~Lock the gates and freeze each cell My anatomy is composed of flows~I'm walkin' rhythm Your prayers are ignored by God~I know~I'm talkin' with 'em Causin' victims sickened visions paralysis as after effects Stricken with the mission of severed Fantom heads as I chapter text Blast correct~Squeezin' empty clips~Ice essentially rips skin from flesh I'm convinced I was left to collect bones and steal breath from ya crushed chest You'll get fucked correct when I'm pinnin' ya shoulders with composure And struck with repititous and vicious strokes someone should told ya To warm up~I battle for keeps and shatter retreats With hallowed blades made specifically for chatter to cease Ya most solid verse wouldn't "matter" to me~I'll splatter this geek's Corpuscles with more muscle~Bare-handed fatalities as a strategy For tearin' into ya form representin' a lyrical Gattica~I ain't mad at ya So don't take it personal as I'm certain to kick you harder than Grammatica Like that~ Good Luck homie Fantom (http://www.******.com/forums/vault/member.php?u=7419) Fuck a personal diss, I make you flirt with my fists till they hurtin your lips… I don’t battle cats, I just spit words at kids till they lurk wit the fish… Black Ice you know me loosely, I’m Newton perusing the loose leaves… Cherries get popped in your family...Fant knocked up the fuckin fruit tree… Ice how can we find your flow with such worthless and scattered bars… I hope you Discover you ain't accepted here like an overbalanced MasterCard… Reverse your skull 180 degrees snapping crucial cords leave your eyes dilated… Purposely placed so when I lyrically fuck you, you witness your asshole get violated… Ice, I’ll have you tumblin somethin fast from my thunderin musket blasts… Leaving you lumpy-headed like Sylvester when you’re “Sufferin-Such-Attacks”… Your style is like vintage, still spittin bitmaps tryin to be my spitten image… Hit and diminish, crossed the line but never touched the finish… Your fears grow, it’s only natural, a big man becoming small with fright… This kid works at a sporting goods store, but somehow he can’t find the “balls” to fight… Forget about making you cry "wolf", but like dyslexics I'm make you cry "flow".. Your whole battle verse was a mistake to post...but how is all 20 lines a typo... I’ll ruthlessly bash Ice’s skull into fine sand with potent back-fists… Lyrically I’m surpassing his wack shit that’s why he spits with a marxist fashion… You resent me, because I made it so your notebook would have a few pages empty … This is Black Ice’s journal, December 26th, final entry… |
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