BPC vs Massacre

trap. · 01-28-2013, 05:40 PM

04-20-2002

Massacre

blah!...those words were hard...

Incite words to utalize=Hemoglobin, Transvestite, Tank, Jules Verne

Harness all my Energy, to prove BPC gets Abused like little kids in a Catholic Ministry//Vanquish this LP wannabe and Turn this battle rap into His Eulogy//

spin this battle into existence...and leave this fool the only 'DEMON' Preaching Repentence//This folls Parole must be denied the way he's stuck being served by my sentences// This battle was Over before it started...BPC is left 'Dearly Departed' so Fast ya soul will reach Hell half retarded//i'm like AIDS suffacating cells with Viral Hemoglobin//This fool dun pissed off God like Gamorah and Sotom//Your flows consistantly 'Fall' like "autumn"// your regin sank a long time ago, along with the No Limit Tank//Viral encryptians erase your memory Bank...in B's PC//mentally you as deep as Mount Everast and i;m like Jules Verne's 2000 leagues under the Sea//BPC's a mockery to Civilization like a Transvestite stripper with THE CLAPP// little Boy couldn't make noise if he entered JFK airport strapped// nor get a last word if he wrote my Epitaph//step from behind ya pseud...Demon couldn't get applauds if he was the Hype man For GOD//

BPC

Leave mass like Robert “Graves”as b engraves death(Dead poet)
Saving breath? Turn to meth grab yo lungs and burn what left
“Mass” shrink yo “weight” like traveling in space, light da rocket!
Grab da gat, cock it, lighting “joints”? Only if I ignite yo “socket”
reckon, my X-caliber weapon ends in massacres, b in fam termination
my creation, take out yo “eyes” so b got “site” domination
b strips yo lips to yo hips “make” u “hop”, filled of blood like stalking crypts
moving gats b got talking clips, my text so advanced I got walking scripts
dress rehearsal, press reversal, fuck a head butt u dead not Ill fuck yo “emotion”
I digest yo “self esteem” like “oceans” u cant “sea” flows I compose for commotion
Disturb yo nerve I bend backs like drunks swerve on "mass-crubs(massacre),
“like cutting letters” proterb my verbs so they rip flesh and split words,

“Mark” yo death? “Close(clothes) line”, between “echo”s and rumors
make yo nose touch yo toes& hit yo self only way yo punches are composed of humor
“mark ecko is owner of Ecko Clothes line”

01-28-2013, 05:40 PM	#1
trap. Senior Citizen Join Date: Aug 1997 Posts: 3,870 Battle Record: 4-3 Rep Power: 0	BPC vs Massacre 04-20-2002 Massacre blah!...those words were hard... Incite words to utalize=Hemoglobin, Transvestite, Tank, Jules Verne Harness all my Energy, to prove BPC gets Abused like little kids in a Catholic Ministry//Vanquish this LP wannabe and Turn this battle rap into His Eulogy// spin this battle into existence...and leave this fool the only 'DEMON' Preaching Repentence//This folls Parole must be denied the way he's stuck being served by my sentences// This battle was Over before it started...BPC is left 'Dearly Departed' so Fast ya soul will reach Hell half retarded//i'm like AIDS suffacating cells with Viral Hemoglobin//This fool dun pissed off God like Gamorah and Sotom//Your flows consistantly 'Fall' like "autumn"// your regin sank a long time ago, along with the No Limit Tank//Viral encryptians erase your memory Bank...in B's PC//mentally you as deep as Mount Everast and i;m like Jules Verne's 2000 leagues under the Sea//BPC's a mockery to Civilization like a Transvestite stripper with THE CLAPP// little Boy couldn't make noise if he entered JFK airport strapped// nor get a last word if he wrote my Epitaph//step from behind ya pseud...Demon couldn't get applauds if he was the Hype man For GOD// BPC Leave mass like Robert “Graves”as b engraves death(Dead poet) Saving breath? Turn to meth grab yo lungs and burn what left “Mass” shrink yo “weight” like traveling in space, light da rocket! Grab da gat, cock it, lighting “joints”? Only if I ignite yo “socket” reckon, my X-caliber weapon ends in massacres, b in fam termination my creation, take out yo “eyes” so b got “site” domination b strips yo lips to yo hips “make” u “hop”, filled of blood like stalking crypts moving gats b got talking clips, my text so advanced I got walking scripts dress rehearsal, press reversal, fuck a head butt u dead not Ill fuck yo “emotion” I digest yo “self esteem” like “oceans” u cant “sea” flows I compose for commotion Disturb yo nerve I bend backs like drunks swerve on "mass-crubs(massacre), “like cutting letters” proterb my verbs so they rip flesh and split words, “Mark” yo death? “Close(clothes) line”, between “echo”s and rumors make yo nose touch yo toes& hit yo self only way yo punches are composed of humor “mark ecko is owner of Ecko Clothes line”