THE OPEN MIC CYPHER

[Coup]

Coup d'état,
The inhospitable theologian threat
The hostel kid whose slogan is written French
My verse force words as flowing is to the flex
Verse is broken ? Fix it in the hospital bed
Remember. I won't already just now forget (?)
Thanks, my couplets are coupled to death
Just went full retard. Cigarettes after sex
I am he. Misery mutiny. I overthrew me next
I mean I'm breaking the last puzzle piece left
With My Hebrew brothers entering in Jacob's trouble
We All fall down, only for me it's impossible to quit
My skull is the pen, brain is the ink setting the text
Let me clue you in and I'mma be Gentlemen-genuine
I'm pent up alien with skin missing skeleton
An empty everything, digesting oxygen as medicine
Disgusted at the dosing so I injected adrenaline
A dope head, I'm trembling daydreams mad again
OH look ther goes Eminem and his estrogen stench
Like teen spirit, even Kurt's murder is suspect
Whatever, never mind.
Ladies and gentlemen, I'm a has been never been
Some of these lines I wrote whenever I was last
A better man.

[Lars]

The reprimand in Heaven. Standing over several bags of never-hads. Money comes and goes, depression lasts, suck it up and hope you're getting past it. It's nothing but a hole, a void, stale and full of fiction. Life's motherfuckin' polaroids that make up your existence.

[CopyPat]

wake up! your a victim. i just raped up foreign bitches. change up, sorry pitchers but ur base sucks, port them bitches..wordplay up ur asses, cause ya sound is lackin thump. Your're gay fuckin faggot cause you pounded that kids bum. haha that shits dumb and im just laughing at this one. nasty fuckin brotha gulping rappers up for supper. sulking happens after fuckin with this classy motherfucker

[Lars]

The fact I’m from the gutter means my swag is like no other, crumbs gather in the butter as I spread it on my toast. Death’s a bed of roses compared to the excrement we’re grown in, and the scent of it’s morose. We’re kept in social coma’s while technology develops, until our heads are Motorola’s and a tomorrow’s what we’re destined where we’re in debt to Coca-Cola as we wallow in refreshment.

[Lars]

If I could bottle it and sell it, this euphoria I’m feeling, who would want it? I’m a pessimist that’s bordering on realness. Born to make you feel it. The Lord who’ll wake the heathens and immortals safely sleeping w/ enough force to shake the ceiling. I ought to face my demons, but I’ve never looked back, and though all it takes is decency – They’re friends of the past...

[Lars]

Dead in a bathtub with your head looking back up at where I severed it. Fat fucker on madd drugs that you peddled him – AND WHAT! Bang Bussing your relatives, the man’s fucked in the head with it, stab cunts as I reminisce on the handguns that I’ve kept but it’s the Magnum that’s my preference! I land punches and never miss, the bar fight champ, up in your damn guts if you lemme bitch - I’m hard like that!

Last of the day, I promise, got some writing to do for my next battle. Enjoy or endure, fellas!

[Void]

What are we? Under these money schemes and honeybee clustering. Stomach keeps grumbling. We stuff it with nothing. Feed the hunger for substance with something like tumbleweeds. 'Knuckle up', we mumble. 'Breathe'. So puzzling. Crumbling, but cover things publicly so no one sees what others need. So no one reads he's suffering. 'No one sees me', one could think. 'If no one sees me, no one needs me. Fuck a team. I'm number one. Above all other', and such. Our dreams; crushed by us. We numb the sting to plug the grief. It wasn't easy coming clean. The confidence to modestly succumb to one's humbling.

[Split]

Incurred three tears in my acid ducts. Reversed MacPhearson, revere this fearsome backwards strut. Half of half a year learning cursive, appears I've adapted up. Adept, it happened when my effort slackened and I went inactive. For like half a month. Get absent, rappers. Practice whackness and you'll master what?

[Wise Wiggles]

a wreck like wedding singer. got resin on my Freddy finger from hemming skin off the heavy thinkers. letting ink drip for that tupac fame. ask ray who got game. the cold-blooded boondock saint- as ice ooze off vein.

[Mr. J]

Oh so friendly got the site in a frenzy
my immaculate posture got MCs tryna offend me
send me a few more verses and lets stop prentending
swing liquid swords and armored in my Genji
ready for solicitors and fakes as I administer your fate
about to slap you bitches because my dinner was late
I clap for you dudes making minimum wage
spending it on Jordan's even if your kids are gettin in the way
funny...how in this day and age Hip Hop represents...
Suckas who ramble on about certain incidents
come out the woodwork then claim bitch again
Ill Paul Bunyan that ho its good for business...bitch

[Void]

Paul Bunyan ya temples 'til my palms touch in the middle. I'm tall, hung and my wit'll cause fuss's. Belittle what you call punches. I'm nimble, with raw substance I chiseled from soft stuffing to brittle brawn nuggets of gristle. I get all fucking uncivil typing up these web rants. Riling up the pest ants and frying 'em with left hands. Sire of the net, champed titles they ain't set, can't tire, I'm the best, jam pliers in their heads and set fire to the next man. Got that Bueller humor. Dryer than a deadpan. Bathing cougars in sex panth... er. Doing handstands. This the grandstand verse for you bland canc-ers.

[Geno]

a paint can burst, splashin words, its how the passionate write
crack your skull to the protoplasm, drain the hour glass of your life
fatally attracted to knives, and other such objects deadly as those
my chemical meddley is tetley tea, where the methamphetamine grows
the best damn chemistry known to mankind, type that you cant find
turn life into landslides, when i rhyme its a license for landmines

[Wise Wiggles]

my soul on a slate, trying to float- this bowls on parade
full of this rage, to rip my <3 out & place it whole on the page
I'd die for you, start digging the hole on the stage
wanna earn it? the sweat takes a toll on your name
eww. Trojans & taints. someone give Holden some faith
far from a player hater but I'm poaching the game
blow-dryer to skull lining, fucking glowing your plates

[Lars]

Holding the ace up my sleeve, playing for keeps at a table with thieves. I make ‘em believe that I’m bluffin’, sitting stationary while discussing which place to eat and I’m loving it. The Big Mac to these small fries, tipped hat and a hawks eye with my chips stacked as I call blind. Quick cash for the small minded. Caught a swift glance as one walked by & it was either a hipflask or a .45…

[KZVR]

I earn six figures. My dick itches.

[Lars]

From the top of the page:

I am God's lie in practice. Con-trived. Fraud eyes of quasi compassion stalk life while acting. No swan dive to madness. My soft strides of absence came over long times. A wall fly. Detaching from all. Mind in fragments.

Back to the wall where you’ll find me lampin’, on the corner of the street like George Formby used to be. The nausea proceeds the honeymoon period causing it to cease. You took it too serious. “You’re always in my dreams” became “Call me in a week,” but for all our disagreements, you’re worth every fuck I gave. I get enough these days but I’ll never love the same so I settled for the safe option, cemeteries and grave robbing.

[Void]

My social butterfly knife dislikes your sunny disposition. Screaming, 'YOU AIN'T KNOW LIFE SUCKS?!', getting bludgeoned in the kitchen with an oven mitt, some dishes and a mug my kid drew pictures on. I'm humming shit. I'm riffing songs. Buzzing. Grin. I'm getting calm with each thrust that hits this bitch's jaw. Say, 'Fuck it', quit, and let her fall.

[Geno]

..the bitch is better off, the dog, she kept toillette paper shreds in braus// a fraud -stayed lyin, while I'm stage divin' into green berets, giants, and a team of paid goliaths// raging violence is my repertoire, weapons drawn, drawing pints of blood until the blood pressures gone// let's evolve -fuck a heartbeat, drums make the pulse bleed, cross breed, tear a mic with dogs teeth// pause please... -now conntinue, out to get you, malcom x you, gonna need an ambulance and fbi to mount a rescue//..

[Nigma]

Originally Posted by Genocide

..the bitch is better off, the dog, she kept toillette paper shreds in braus// a fraud -stayed lyin, while I'm stage divin' into green berets, giants, and a team of paid goliaths// raging violence is my repertoire, weapons drawn, drawing pints of blood until the blood pressures gone// let's evolve -fuck a heartbeat, drums make the pulse bleed, cross breed, tear a mic with dogs teeth// pause please... -now conntinue, out to get you, malcom x you, gonna need an ambulance and fbi to mount a rescue//..

Damn that sounds impressive, menace out to get ya Gen you sending pictures rippin words words to shreds that worth a thousand letters, the talent tactic rose, an open battle growing massive, open caskets show it, folding laps and goin past these rappin poets fast with ghastly flow that slowly captures focus, seconds lapsed are golden now it's passed and over go and snatch the moment

[CopyPat]

damn you all murkin this, closing these chapters. spoken disaster on the mic, kickin free's and blowin these rappers to like smithereens. i've openly tampered with life spitting these, cause when you don't believe half of the hype living seems hopeless and that isn't right...the joke is the sacrifice getting cream, hopin to stash it and try living dreams but its nowhere in actual site, literally, work over half of your life withering, till your old and you have to retire....physically poached and your massively tired, that's the rigmarole of a factory lifer.---Daughter and her wedding cake:---all the nickles you stowed are cashed in to buy her Prada on her special day... instantly broke and back in the fire...Haunted by your yesterday