Doperhyma vs DeadPoet

[trap.]

01-05-2002

dead poet

so you thinkin that ya bad enough to battle tha likes of me//
but the fact of tha matter is you’ll be the only one defeated//
cuz when it comes to rhymin flows I’ve got it down to an art//
call me fukin Jackson Pollack and Im hear ta wreck ya hard//
betta watch me really good cuz Im not here and Im not there//
Its like Im fukin Nightcralwer, comin stright outta thin air//
and ya in for the Apocalypse now, and Im fukin Marlon Brando//
Im shootin verse like an army and my bullets is tha flow//
and you really must be crazy if ya think that you gonna knock me over//
Like a fukin liquor store, I’ll tear ya down like I’m a dozer//
look out cuz here it comes, its my fukin lyrical intellect//
with a vocab like Websters and a base to ressurect//
and my rhymes are fukin blazin causin ya hesitiation//
and Rock Hudson might been gay, but you just fukin flamin//
In the midst of a cold war, ya like a blizzard//
You aint in kansas anymore, ya best be off ta see tha wizard//
and you’d hafta ask him for a heart or maybe even a brain//
How bout tha common sense not to fuk with DeadPoet again//


dope rhyma

Listen faggot I’m telling you, don’t really wanna get lyrically beheaded//
I stick VISA CARDS down ya throat just so you can say I gave you CREDIT//
Hell yea I said it, Why the fuck are you dissin’ me, your stepping outta your limits//
Cuz even you wanna see me like prisoners, waitin for conjugal visits//
Monumental lyrics, Deprevation and Elevation leaves me without hesitation//
To rip your amateur ass like a condom that broke from penetration//
Ur skills are like ‘timbs’ left out in rain, there so uncolored’n faded//
Don't think becuz you don't use STAIRS that you're style has ELEVATED (elevator)//
I’m like main course meals your as fuckin bad as an ordurb//
My ACTIONS say more than ya verse, my fuckin name should be VERB//
So you wanna be like mike (jordan) and be the nicest in the game//
Problem is u more like Tyson (mike) cuz u bite shit to get fame//
Imma Pound-your-Back with 'Bar-Stools',Get ready for a 'Counter Attack'//
My Tounge Races Sound Around-Tracks, You can call me 'Sir-Cause' (circus) Im 'Clownin'-your-Raps//
Couldnt 'Throw Hard Punches' even if this Battle was a 'Fist-Fight',//
Even if you leveled your tounge '90 degreez' , you still couldnt Spit-'Right'//
I’ve banned all of the newbies, you shouldn’t be rhyming here either//
I’m like NAS-ty, exstensively inject your body with ether//
I’m something for u to admire, bring me to class for show’n tell//
Lookin at an alphabet chart for me is my closest-to-L's…//
Cold hearted leavin niggas hanicap and parkin in their places//
I’m killin leavin no traces, look down my gun-barrel leave you faceless//