Richard Corey vs BPC

trap. · 01-28-2013, 06:13 PM

04-26-2002

Richard Corey

Throwin' darts to ya exposed heart, watch my gun-hole spark
Feed you bullets, make ya "Eat-clips" till the sun goes dark
My speech splits cats, rap you in lines like Heathcliff
smack you back in time's reaches; needs pair-a-meds like Egypt
Leaves when I'm preachin', shows this mortal is scared of "def"
smack him so hard, he and whoever he's next to will share a chest!
I murder for the news, when the PRESS RETURNS, "I drop texts"
Decapitate BPC like ballers always screamin', "I got necks!!!"
You got no skill, a Bitch Producin' Crap, a Butt-Perusin' Cad
I'd be scared you'd actually win, but its' Been Provin' u Can't
I've erradicated this fagg*ts shape and leave it delapidated
emaciated basic-rapper, your phatness is un-saturated
obliterated, b*tch is overrated your sh*ts the fakest
I spit lines on time and alive, yours is the "latest"
example of the ample ability I possess to cram you
in a casket. Dismantle and burn the "wacks" like candles!!
BPC better pray catastrophe eludes him cause I'm a pursue him
stick my foot up his ass, cause "in this sh*t, I'm a shoe in!"

Leave your internal organs movin' and squeeze ya spleen.
Don't ever talk to me directly again, and if you do better "Be PC"!!

BPC

fuck ya avatar, your wack man, im sniping ya rap-clan
wearin skimpy costumes is comical, why your a 'bat' man
got you in cold 'sweat', ain't 'slept on' just got 'wet-dreams'
hear screams as I pull out ya organs and feed ya your intestines
corey just oxygen wasted, gasping, B wack? if I was breathing yo breath
fuck ya rep like selling life threatening drugs your dealing with death
fuck wats left Make RC vanish faster the philosophical phantasams
My text Pleasure fit to measure b spit lyrical orgasms
Rc got flawsed, in Remote Control tryin to pause
Handles airplaine party only way yo verse get flying applause
Grab claws stab jaws like yo avatar u couldn’t spit in day light
Same page right? Spit in front of peeps but RC stage freight

raining~snipes I “blade” threw cats screens in yo spleens were my knife~storms
shit old man wit a hand torn from porn trying to fuck wit a lyrical life form
mod that quit swearing daring to face god, but cant contend
RC descends, like football front line b finish’s wit tight ends

up to 5

01-28-2013, 06:13 PM	#1
trap. Senior Citizen Join Date: Aug 1997 Posts: 3,870 Battle Record: 4-3 Rep Power: 0	Richard Corey vs BPC 04-26-2002 Richard Corey Throwin' darts to ya exposed heart, watch my gun-hole spark Feed you bullets, make ya "Eat-clips" till the sun goes dark My speech splits cats, rap you in lines like Heathcliff smack you back in time's reaches; needs pair-a-meds like Egypt Leaves when I'm preachin', shows this mortal is scared of "def" smack him so hard, he and whoever he's next to will share a chest! I murder for the news, when the PRESS RETURNS, "I drop texts" Decapitate BPC like ballers always screamin', "I got necks!!!" You got no skill, a Bitch Producin' Crap, a Butt-Perusin' Cad I'd be scared you'd actually win, but its' Been Provin' u Can't I've erradicated this faggts shape and leave it delapidated emaciated basic-rapper, your phatness is un-saturated obliterated, btch is overrated your shts the fakest I spit lines on time and alive, yours is the "latest" example of the ample ability I possess to cram you in a casket. Dismantle and burn the "wacks" like candles!! BPC better pray catastrophe eludes him cause I'm a pursue him stick my foot up his ass, cause "in this sht, I'm a shoe in!" Leave your internal organs movin' and squeeze ya spleen. Don't ever talk to me directly again, and if you do better "Be PC"!! BPC fuck ya avatar, your wack man, im sniping ya rap-clan wearin skimpy costumes is comical, why your a 'bat' man got you in cold 'sweat', ain't 'slept on' just got 'wet-dreams' hear screams as I pull out ya organs and feed ya your intestines corey just oxygen wasted, gasping, B wack? if I was breathing yo breath fuck ya rep like selling life threatening drugs your dealing with death fuck wats left Make RC vanish faster the philosophical phantasams My text Pleasure fit to measure b spit lyrical orgasms Rc got flawsed, in Remote Control tryin to pause Handles airplaine party only way yo verse get flying applause Grab claws stab jaws like yo avatar u couldn’t spit in day light Same page right? Spit in front of peeps but RC stage freight raining~snipes I “blade” threw cats screens in yo spleens were my knife~storms shit old man wit a hand torn from porn trying to fuck wit a lyrical life form mod that quit swearing daring to face god, but cant contend RC descends, like football front line b finish’s wit tight ends up to 5