Mahatma vs Massacre aka The Dead Poet

[trap.]

12-09-2001

Massacre's verse:

Alright Gandhi your about to get sent to your doom// the consumed and blown right out this room//If your so ill, you’d be signed to some major recording deal, but instead u stuck online boasting about your ”so called skill”// your whack ness is about to get exposed// mahatma behind my lines like “free throws”//this a guaranteed victory like Smokey VS. DEBO// it’s been over since the start//your pathetic style is derived from ya lack of ability to spit darts//you should just change ya name to “tin-man” because ~U~got~no~heart// and with a crew name like that….. It’s evident u got no creativity//you’re a bunch of whack {m}c’s~with~{n}o~{o}ral~{a}bilities// your little peon mind is held captive to tranquility, so just how do U plan to defeat me//you’ve got no skill lyrically~-~-~-~whack emcees like U should have died instead of biggie and 2pac// ya styles “played-out” like ~Atari~ while mines state of this art like the X-box// the only reason your on “top” is because your jocked by the fools that I’ve already served// it’s absurd the way u drop ~”adwerbs”~u need to observe the way “mass-occur” to spill out proverbs……………and testimonies//u call u self a “master of ceremony” but yet the closest you’ll ever get to Rock…in a mic is with a bunch of played-out jabronies// while “mass” be casting curses, hexes, and spells// to send U on a down spirial to hell// but for real ya {m}ind~{a}nd~{h}eart~{a}ligned~{m}ere
ly~{a}re equivalent to “one of my brain cells”// and I can tell~ that everything U spit is a “pre-written” battle rhyme // the day U kick a “dope-line” is the day that GOD himself runs out of time// or better yet the day that ”eternity runs into “duration//or until the “apocalypse bares witness to the dawns of creation”// you’re a pathetic imitation of ~docksptz~ and ~blazin Caucasian~// u shouldn’t be on “******”….u should be some where giving interviews on some [B] corny “POP” radio station//

peace
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mahatma:

Crew battle~Mahatma vs. Massacre ~ What's wrong with that, figured it out!?
First I'm crewless, plus my tongue's strong enough ta LICK his ligaments out!

God ordered this slaughter(Massacre), I got this proof: I'm with him!
The voice ov God speaks with increased speed, through poison pistons...
I've got ya skillz fixed in, forced, deep in possition, squealing ''!!!SUBMISSION!!!''
While mine flow, easily from me like freedom, so even when I 'key' them, you get 'punched' for not listening!
Here's the crunch so stop whispering, its certain Mahatmaz magic has religious tablets seriously out shone...
Flinchers loose they fingers, got me thinking...How you gonna be so wordy with ya mouth gone!?
I could toss ten ton a' uranium at Massacre, so his brain becomes a maze a' puns, with skull fractures...
I've reduced this rapper to a wack magnet, a 'petty crying child' at the sound ov 'vets laughter!'
Massacre, you want vet status, when you still come with more generalisations than a kkk racist!?
Face it, you've got neither the talent or the mental apparatus... Matter ov fact, why'd I bother to type, since itz garrentied I'ma waste this!?
I caught Mass' gazing at, the next rappers ass, plain & blatant ~ so is it torture, or should I kill him?
Death in seconds: my prefference, without question, I'm the only villain in the building...
Readers see these lyrics, while Massacre really feel 'em, like when he gropped shady...
My avatar should read ''Beware ov the dog'' 'cause these type 'a netcees be provoking rabies!

Massacre ~ You missed the T, pz