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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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Name: E2
Crews: pMp'z Where: Albuquerque, NM Repped: Sethros, UPN, RM vs Adrunk I’m the vilest nihilist bringing violence, & thus hell Ad is a pistachio- that’s his style, in a nutshell I’m the virus your brain installed, just let the pain assault Every foe’s a deli***y- I take em with a grain of salt Complain & bawl- I’ve always been a man of six minds Using one to beat your ass & laughing with five Ad just dickrides; him & Winona Ryder look for Sacks now You could even quit heroin & still not put the smack-down Just to keep this kid off my nuts I gotta wear ball-caps If writing were driving, Adrunk would probably call cabs… My written strike is literal like the pen in your ap‘pen’dix You may as well have never even been in my attendance & when you post rhymes for critique, no one gives a fuck You could vomit with a boner & still not get it upped I’m the one who owns you… mom ain’t a part of that …Roll over & die like a dog with a heart attack Your arsenal is over with, how could you not notice it? In battle you’re more under-armed than deodorant You can’t conceive lines that become a feature of the month Even racing for drinks at prom, I’d beat you to the punch Just quit battling, dude- trust me-it’s the truth You’d be ‘better off’ like lights in ugly bitches’ rooms I’m right here, so don’t ever ask if God exists Your job ain’t battling, kid… don’t call in sick I’m smarter in type, you borrowed your time as a martyr who died & your brain is my property, Ad- you got a ‘lot’ on your mind vs Doo Doo In Arse I posted this now so you get 3 days for responding to this cause your writing's as much of a joke as your moniker is plus all my sources cite you're one fourth my height and so fucking wack that showing up is unsportsmanlike my records are long-standing like the body of a Dachshund and if you aint a muffler, tell me why you so exhausted? battling is fishing, i'm the old man on the Sea with skills like a blind whore... you gotta hand it to me my battle verse is hung and i'mma slam it in your cunt even if you operate as a man and get it done what planet are you from? you can't compete with your opponent Even 4 year olds tell you to "speak when you are tolded" you're droppin smaller quantities than gerbil shits in toilets your whole fucking verse looks like a circle since its pointless i'll blast off- bash your eyes and trash talk then get charged with battery like Energizer's mascot Your flows suck so bad they're leaving leech trails If you ever had a career, it's washed up like beached whales i'll beat you till you wake up dazed with a make up case go study astronomy, bitch- all you do is take up space i rape vets all day, let alone your fake text i break keeping heads rolling like tapedecks on play you jumped to conclusions and pulled your metatarsals Doo Doo, every line you drop is shit... all they are is 'bar-stools' whenever defining sick, there's a picture of me to compare it with you're about as good of a writer as Richard Reid is a terrorist both of you fail to blow it up- but at least you were wack if not, i might not be 1-0... and i appreciate that vs Espionage Everyone likes an underdog… getting bashed by a vet I got one question, man- how'd you get past I.N.S.? It seems your mastery of plain just has to be innate You look like Iverson on Quaaludes… after being raped & speaking of your birth- you've been frail since the day I'mma put you outta commission like how salesmen get paid But your minimum wage is set; even your agent said Sime didn't give you a seed… he posted your age instead You record in your spare time but can't afford any airtime Guess that scar on your head fractured more than your hairline …Your perspective would've been absurd if you had filmed it Cause your head's so use to the ground it's permanently tilted You came in completely entire now you'll leave in a vile Wake up & smell the coffin cause you'll be there a while You need to retire- just don't expect a pension from the game What have you ever done to earn the mention of your name? Enter this tournament? Get lucky for a few rounds then bounce? You're lightweight- couldn't kill-a-gram, let alone pound an ounce I doubt amounts of your material even vaguely make sense The boundary on your neck means that chain-link is fenced You know all too well how the bottom of the barrel smells You're actually 0-37… waiting for the next Peril- L & it scares the hell outta you; even your she-male is shell-shocked It's your own disco funeral & you'll be there with Bells on I said shhhhhhhhh.... Espi can't offend me- ending with 'Muthaphucka!' is trendy You may be full-up on NV but you're still running on MT & giving it your all but you're a little bit too gone …You ain't in your own league living with your mom Isn't it the bomb? Ok, not when you can't see the light of day I'm smacking you open-handed like the United Way I'm a grand slam… you're nothing but a bunt, kid All you are is my fourth down… no wonder you got punted Ain't even 25% champion, you're just a quarter-finalist I got a date with destiny & you don't know what time it is I know what your favorite meal is so I made you tubesteak Why'd you even show up? Oh wait- it's April Fool's Day See, you'll likely be a bye so I might not even try Throwing unibrows connecting right between your eyes It's a sight to see you cry, but you were never liked on my lap Even after you did that cockumentary about life on my sack You claim you're best known but came with dead tone So put a noose around your penis & hang your head low Your suicidal tendencies don't want a friend it seems There's 2 E's in Espionage… it starts & ends with me But now the Grim Reaper is your best friend- goodnight I'm tucking you in Esp… don't let the deathbedbugs bite vs SLICK I push the envelope, you get pushed-over like dominos In the school of hard knocks, I'm always on the honor roll The game was much impressed because I play with such intent If you battle religiously, you should've gave it up for Lent 81%… needs 29 more to match this effortless type-write It's ok to finish last- that just makes you a nice guy None of your ideas fly… some you see die on impact I'm still the real dick & you're a penile implant You're some actor from Akron, isn't that an anachronism? With verse neither solid NOR fluid; it's gelatinous You could fly to Indochina just to praise all your quotes …But I wouldn't go so far as to say you were dope Your only battle skills involve the duck & running part Even as Ron Jeremy's dick, you're no Up & Coming star You need to raise-your-writes like people in courts do When it comes to battle, you pull out like corkscrews You're a Bum with split personalities, now you're Broke in two Your name may as well be Sesame… kid, I'm about to Open you The fact you're a biter? … That has to be vital Your rhymes are garbage & I'm glad you recycle It's damn suicidal for you, but you're not allowed to bitch My verse took a Hike & still went off without a Hitch So E2 oughtta bag it, I could crush you automatic Slyck's a pomegranate & I got a palm of granite If you don't like pain, I'mma turn you into a masochist Not only did I devour you, I over-8 you like an asterisk Your verse ain't the only thing that got cut, just ask your wrists I already took my picture for the next round after this So, voters… I think y'all know whose verse reads better Slyck can't live up to his name, let alone his first 3 letters :) vs Moniker E2's he who's causing the hum in your brain, makin fun of your pain Call me Marshall, cause I'll "Faulk" you since I'm "running this game" I'm one in the same with darkness, cause my sight is pale and gloomy You could be Graham Greene filing suit and still would fail to "Sioux" me Now stop your mess, you're not the best, I'll chop your flesh And cremate the Grim Reaper just to make it "hot to death" So watch your text, while this master moves through miscues I bet you cry when you masturbate so you have to use two tissues I'm reducing Moniker's primitive acts and motives to crumbs Son, how you gonna grip the mic when you lack opposable thumbs? Before this battle, Michael was steadily talking shit with zeal But now he's like mute nuns in a convent, cause all his "lips are sealed" Yet you fail to realize that the severity of the carnage my vocals spawn Is like sticking your hand down the drain when the garbage disposal's on While I'm uplifting fears of flames to leave you pissed with tears of rage I'd embarrass you PUBlically, but you're only fifteen years of age So nothing you say can entice this vet to respect your indecisive rep Cause you're driving me crazy and you ain't even got a license yet So why you gotta act lewd? Clap you if you're that rude- infact, dude The only way you're "ballin" is all on Weapon X's sack-pubes You're wack, cubed- rubbish to the third power- less than meaningless While my light shines so bright that y'all wear Ray-Bans reading this Hey man, eat a dick- and be prepared, for when my talk'll cause a mic eruption I'll thin you out worse than Calista Flockhart after liposuction All my enemies are food, you know that- I readily prove my foes lack To display the skill that just ain't there like Ebenezer Scrooge's Prozac On your brother, Nate, is where you're aimin sperm, you flaimin herb You founded the first gay publication and named it "Lay-men's Terms" I'd turn this slaughterer to mince meat, but my monitor prevents me So just remember if I was the president, you'd be Moniker Lewinsky |
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