As I turned the page, I got to the climax I wield the word axe, split your backs like skull-cracks And similarly I tore your mom's Hyming-away Get to the action, watch her crumb-snatchin' And her snatch Fitzgerald, as in F. Scott, and fits N. Scott Momaday Swat away her crotch-mist, now here's a plot twist that's truly rare! You came out like a bear from the Clan of the Cave Hair To cite Derrida, but I stare at a sample of your rhymes, and errors glare at ya Think you're original like Camille Paglia But I murder you like the white Dahlia Drop pillars of basalt on ya, as I start assaultin' ya All that caveman testosterone started baldin' ya until your ass was the only place Hair'lld Bloom Now the only Vidal your ass knows is Sassoon You suck in air like a bassoon, spit out rhymes fit for the tomb Here, I'll give you a tour of your mother's spacious womb Over here's where I watch TV, there's where I park my Hum-Vee Now the bitch spreads her legs like a kick from Chun-Li Oh no, we're sliding out, so hold on to your hat Cuz this orifice can fit several baseball bats I'd expect to see your face fall flat, But I'd run a race for all that Cuz your countenance is craggy like a Space-mall map. I emerge from Freudian subtexts to get you in your dreams, represented by various phalluses, streams and creams I'm well endowed like Harry Reams meets Edward Scissorhands, just ask your sister's hands That's why I slash through your bullshit like Freddy Kruger, now your well-read veneer is endangered like a cougar I pile-drove you and now I'm Lex Luger I can manipulate you like a Mooger-fruger You can drive home points from Foucault in your intellectual Yugo, thinkin' your the victor like Hugo and you may be multi-layered like kugel, because your use of allusions isn't frugal, but I write off any rhymes that make me search Google. I posted on www.fistingbears.com that your bedroom is cruisy Like your fast pace in the race to see who's the most boojy. You pull out cash and I make your Bills Wither and you can't Use Me At this point you're just trying to confuse me. Now your tone goes from Ivory-Tower to Bluesy Once you realize the battlefield ain't intellectually schmoozey. Now a rush of endorphins has come to suffuse me Cuz I won't let your ivory-tower-colored flag refuse me.
Interesting pile of shit, let's give the source a look Quit biting the descriptions from next semester's coursebook Did I not expect this? you bet, bitch, I knew once I colored your mom ivory with a pearl necklace From my ivory tower before I golden showered Don't talk Foucault when you don't know shit about knowledge and/or power So Billy's Callous to my verbal malice and my turning his mom into Go Ask Alice How you have inspired her to stay on the pill I wax you so hard, people be like,"he must be from Brazil" Feel me? your rhyme style is wack and unappealing But really, I mean it. No, really. Really. Don't even try to out name-drop me I drop the names of hundreds of MC's who were powerless to stop me after I drop them in the Willamette then dash like Hammett Read it in the Daily Planet, amateur, before the next time I son-of-sam it Your rhymes are so stupid, I don't think you'd pass a blood test Your FBI file says "Subject sensitive; open when he sucks less" Your style's quickly outdated as Sega Boxing with Buster Douglas Except the parts you stole from me. Those parts hold up best. The rest can and does choke, you got no control but you're remote Rakim tells it, "No joke, Billy's rhymes like to cock smoke" No shit, pole steamer, the only advice I got for you is "see ya" Your rhymes wouldn't be hot if you fed them Funky Cold Medina Next time you wield the word axe, make sure it ain't dull Your lack of facts is like a movement of scowls to the people Take them to an Unitarian church, your rhymes can't be redeemed Run-DMC says "It's Distress time! For your self-esteem!"
First, I don't study bullshit lit I take political philosophy and Public Policy and I feel that your low rhyme tolerance is rather George Wallace-y Dialectically, I'm a hip-hop Hegel vegetarian and Jewish, no lox but I got bagels what else I got? I got your mom on a strict regiment of Kegels and I can revive your dead language, so call me Robert Fagles But you rhyme like a freshman, getting hir cram on for an exam on post-colonialists like Frantz Fanon but you run over natives with lawnmowers, at war like the Boers yes, you're that greedy-- whaddup, Safran Foer? You write that "got get paid, got to get laid" lit your dog tried to hump me so I spayed it you gave me your Heart, I buried you with Spade shit You think you're oldschool, but really you're outdated You said "Oh, you've got Tron? Yay!" You're too easy, so I'm dropping out like Kanye I came here to battle, not to pore over Swann's Way You can accuse me of plagiarism but the only place I steal is into your mom's room to spray jism You're like a 50-year-old professor trying to spend your Office hours macking on students, trying not to end your academic career, but you know how you can lose tenure there's only two ways: a live boy or a dead girl You just got caught giving a dead female a whirl But you can't get it stiff enough for necrophelia this corpse in your bed is the young Ophelia Drowned in your sea of pretention, should I mention She looks like your favorite student who shops at Delia's? But hey, it's cool, Seth, I feel ya if I had a gut and an ego the size of Marcus Aurelius I'd Come Sail ya Away on my fleet of wooden ships You'll take me to the Styx? All I hear is robo-jaw clicks As your mom gives me Dome-o Arigato Your future's dim like the Grim Grotto Cause you lack perspective like Giotto Your academic hypocrisy's hysterical I'll prove over beats that education's chimerical Let's move to the streets like a PhD's immigration to America From India-- now feel my dick up in ya, as I rescind ya if you're the one-room schoolteacher, I just Huck Finned ya.
I don't know who would give me such a link, but since you did, you asked for it, I wonder why with gyrational phoenetics you think, that with thin rhymes and a fish's instinct, with the past and present bound by a two second wink, that you can eat me, like a half-baked potato with sesame, you havent got an ink- -ling, I'll yell til I'm pink- -ing, you're what the Beaver calls Fink, -or something, you got a neck like an ostrich, and have just as much fly, Oh what? "I believe I can fly, I believe I can touch the sky"? Your Nike's can't leave the land, you ain't my main man Mikey, One consolation, this: with your head in the sand, it might be true you command, the forces of fossilized shit, of Jurassic bricks you prehistoric twit, you neolithic nitwit, You're the reason archeologists wear mitts, And now consider your opponent, when he sees numbers in bathrooms he dont go home to phone it, "Call Big Joe for a smooth ride," You want a smooth ride? My cadillac's got more miles than your Mom's had mules, Or than pigeon's have had stools, in an all poultry bar, like Woods on the course, I am always on par, Before they had Jungle Gym's, I raised the bar, They call me skyscraper, cuz a' my phallus, I'm the man with the plan that is always fail-safe, And though its true that I chafe, I have my personal tailors, Anyway. I strike like a Python, til my prey is writhing, they see the wall but not the writing, They're as illiterate as thou, Shakespeare, I can eat that cow, I'll put his iambics in the penitentiary, his pentameters out of the library, his poetic parameters are out of this century and as for Giotto, I'll take my phat chicks, over his triptichs, I'll take my Fresca over his fresco, with a little dash of Pinot, You know, the drink that'll make you go? Hold it man dont stop the flo' What's wrong wit' cho'? And I can take all the thinkers of the West and the East, I got more freckles than you've read Hegel, y'all so full a yeast, I'm your noble beast, with my savage intellect, I ravage as I introspect, I am the cause and the effect, the subject and the object, I'm as convoluted as a Heiddegerian text, I am the total apotheosis I've taken more tablets than Moses, I'm the ram to your flock, I've got more wool than your yew, I'm the wolf in the hide, I'll make you into sheep stew, Mary had a little lamb, and I had a little lamb for dinner, back right down you rank beginner, I am the one who is the winner, I'm the top -perhaps the spinner, watch out son lest I singe your fur, mangy cur, call me Alexander, more fundamental than Anaximander, do as I command ya, give me a hand here.
Is there anyone out there?crostarAugust 22 2005, 00:42:37 UTC
Billy boy, you are a doubting Thomas, Gainsborough or Aquinas, you are still a failure heinous to decline this summons, brainless, I asked for rap and I got silence, On pins and needles, painless, I'm the Brahmin of rap, wordless, I weave my couplets tight as tourniquets, I stride over th'infernal pits of lesser wits, I've got more hits than you've shed shits,
(CHORUS) Why did you tuck my RSVP, Into the file marked "delete"? boy, I'm a f-cking VIP, an alliterative athelete, I'm gonna make you RIP, I'm a one man army, all complete, you kids can have your MTV, you Philistines will meet defeat, go listen to your POD, it just aint't like that on the street,
You know I am beefy like Chef-Boy-R-Dee, Oh yes, I am beefy as a plus-size Tee, You can have a macaroni or a linguini, My noodles just got oodles, linguistically, So why did you desert me like a chocolate cake? A slice of advice, for the truly half-rate, If you don't got the gall to initiate, the patter of prattle is a big mistake, the fatter the cattle, the better the steak, rap back you slack-quacker, you large invertebrate, fo' I send you a plate of humble-cake, instant-bake
I wield the word axe, split your backs like skull-cracks
And similarly I tore your mom's Hyming-away
Get to the action, watch her crumb-snatchin'
And her snatch Fitzgerald, as in F. Scott, and fits N. Scott Momaday
Swat away her crotch-mist, now here's a plot twist
that's truly rare!
You came out like a bear
from the Clan of the Cave Hair
To cite Derrida,
but I stare at a
sample of your rhymes, and errors glare at ya
Think you're original like Camille Paglia
But I murder you like the white Dahlia
Drop pillars of basalt on ya, as I start assaultin' ya
All that caveman testosterone started baldin' ya
until your ass was the only place Hair'lld Bloom
Now the only Vidal your ass knows is Sassoon
You suck in air like a bassoon, spit out rhymes fit for the tomb
Here, I'll give you a tour of your mother's spacious womb
Over here's where I watch TV, there's where I park my Hum-Vee
Now the bitch spreads her legs like a kick from Chun-Li
Oh no, we're sliding out, so hold on to your hat
Cuz this orifice can fit several baseball bats
I'd expect to see your face fall flat,
But I'd run a race for all that
Cuz your countenance is craggy like a Space-mall map.
I emerge from Freudian subtexts to get you in your dreams,
represented by various phalluses, streams and creams
I'm well endowed like Harry Reams
meets Edward Scissorhands, just ask your sister's hands
That's why I slash through your bullshit like Freddy Kruger,
now your well-read veneer is endangered like a cougar
I pile-drove you and now I'm Lex Luger
I can manipulate you like a Mooger-fruger
You can drive home points from Foucault
in your intellectual Yugo,
thinkin' your the victor like Hugo
and you may be multi-layered like kugel,
because your use of allusions isn't frugal,
but I write off any rhymes that make me search Google.
I posted on www.fistingbears.com that your bedroom is cruisy
Like your fast pace in the race to see who's the most boojy.
You pull out cash and I make your Bills Wither and you can't Use Me
At this point you're just trying to confuse me.
Now your tone goes from Ivory-Tower to Bluesy
Once you realize the battlefield ain't intellectually schmoozey.
Now a rush of endorphins has come to suffuse me
Cuz I won't let your ivory-tower-colored flag refuse me.
Reply
Quit biting the descriptions from next semester's coursebook
Did I not expect this? you bet, bitch,
I knew once I colored your mom ivory with a pearl necklace
From my ivory tower before I golden showered
Don't talk Foucault when you don't know shit about knowledge and/or power
So Billy's Callous to my verbal malice
and my turning his mom into Go Ask Alice
How you have inspired her to stay on the pill
I wax you so hard, people be like,"he must be from Brazil"
Feel me? your rhyme style is wack and unappealing
But really, I mean it. No, really. Really.
Don't even try to out name-drop me
I drop the names of hundreds of MC's who were powerless to stop me
after I drop them in the Willamette then dash like Hammett
Read it in the Daily Planet, amateur, before the next time I son-of-sam it
Your rhymes are so stupid, I don't think you'd pass a blood test
Your FBI file says "Subject sensitive; open when he sucks less"
Your style's quickly outdated as Sega Boxing with Buster Douglas
Except the parts you stole from me. Those parts hold up best.
The rest can and does choke, you got no control but you're remote
Rakim tells it, "No joke, Billy's rhymes like to cock smoke"
No shit, pole steamer, the only advice I got for you is "see ya"
Your rhymes wouldn't be hot if you fed them Funky Cold Medina
Next time you wield the word axe, make sure it ain't dull
Your lack of facts is like a movement of scowls to the people
Take them to an Unitarian church, your rhymes can't be redeemed
Run-DMC says "It's Distress time! For your self-esteem!"
Reply
I take political philosophy
and Public Policy
and I feel that your low rhyme tolerance is rather George Wallace-y
Dialectically, I'm a hip-hop Hegel
vegetarian and Jewish, no lox but I got bagels
what else I got? I got your mom on a strict regiment of Kegels
and I can revive your dead language, so call me Robert Fagles
But you rhyme like a freshman, getting hir cram on
for an exam on
post-colonialists like Frantz Fanon
but you run over natives with lawnmowers,
at war like the Boers
yes, you're that greedy-- whaddup, Safran Foer?
You write that "got get paid, got to get laid" lit
your dog tried to hump me so I spayed it
you gave me your Heart, I buried you with Spade shit
You think you're oldschool, but really you're outdated
You said "Oh, you've got Tron? Yay!"
You're too easy, so I'm dropping out like Kanye
I came here to battle, not to pore over Swann's Way
You can accuse me of plagiarism
but the only place I steal is into your mom's room to spray jism
You're like a 50-year-old professor trying to spend your
Office hours macking on students, trying not to end your
academic career, but you know how you can lose tenure
there's only two ways: a live boy or a dead girl
You just got caught giving a dead female a whirl
But you can't get it stiff enough for necrophelia
this corpse in your bed is the young Ophelia
Drowned in your sea of pretention, should I mention
She looks like your favorite student who shops at Delia's?
But hey, it's cool, Seth, I feel ya
if I had a gut and an ego the size of Marcus Aurelius
I'd Come Sail ya
Away on my fleet of wooden ships
You'll take me to the Styx?
All I hear is robo-jaw clicks
As your mom gives me Dome-o Arigato
Your future's dim like the Grim Grotto
Cause you lack perspective like Giotto
Your academic hypocrisy's hysterical
I'll prove over beats that education's chimerical
Let's move to the streets like a PhD's immigration to America
From India-- now feel my dick up in ya, as I rescind ya
if you're the one-room schoolteacher, I just Huck Finned ya.
Reply
but since you did, you asked for it,
I wonder why with gyrational phoenetics you think,
that with thin rhymes and a fish's instinct,
with the past and present bound by a two second wink,
that you can eat me, like a half-baked potato with sesame, you havent got an ink-
-ling, I'll yell til I'm pink-
-ing, you're what the Beaver calls Fink,
-or something, you got a neck like an ostrich, and have just as much fly,
Oh what? "I believe I can fly, I believe I can touch the sky"?
Your Nike's can't leave the land, you ain't my main man Mikey,
One consolation, this: with your head in the sand, it might be true you command,
the forces of fossilized shit, of Jurassic bricks
you prehistoric twit, you neolithic nitwit,
You're the reason archeologists wear mitts,
And now consider your opponent,
when he sees numbers in bathrooms he dont go home to phone it,
"Call Big Joe for a smooth ride,"
You want a smooth ride? My cadillac's got more miles than your Mom's had mules,
Or than pigeon's have had stools, in an all poultry bar,
like Woods on the course, I am always on par,
Before they had Jungle Gym's, I raised the bar,
They call me skyscraper, cuz a' my phallus,
I'm the man with the plan that is always fail-safe,
And though its true that I chafe, I have my personal tailors,
Anyway.
I strike like a Python, til my prey is writhing,
they see the wall but not the writing,
They're as illiterate as thou,
Shakespeare, I can eat that cow,
I'll put his iambics in the penitentiary,
his pentameters out of the library,
his poetic parameters are out of this century
and as for Giotto, I'll take my phat chicks,
over his triptichs, I'll take my Fresca over his fresco, with a little dash of Pinot,
You know, the drink that'll make you go? Hold it man dont stop the flo'
What's wrong wit' cho'?
And I can take all the thinkers of the West and the East,
I got more freckles than you've read Hegel, y'all so full a yeast,
I'm your noble beast, with my savage intellect, I ravage as I introspect,
I am the cause and the effect, the subject and the object,
I'm as convoluted as a Heiddegerian text, I am the total apotheosis
I've taken more tablets than Moses,
I'm the ram to your flock, I've got more wool than your yew,
I'm the wolf in the hide, I'll make you into sheep stew,
Mary had a little lamb, and I had a little lamb for dinner,
back right down you rank beginner, I am the one who is the winner,
I'm the top -perhaps the spinner, watch out son lest I singe your fur,
mangy cur, call me Alexander, more fundamental than Anaximander,
do as I command ya, give me a hand here.
Reply
Gainsborough or Aquinas, you are still a failure heinous
to decline this summons, brainless,
I asked for rap and I got silence,
On pins and needles, painless,
I'm the Brahmin of rap, wordless,
I weave my couplets tight as tourniquets,
I stride over th'infernal pits of lesser wits,
I've got more hits than you've shed shits,
(CHORUS)
Why did you tuck my RSVP,
Into the file marked "delete"?
boy, I'm a f-cking VIP,
an alliterative athelete,
I'm gonna make you RIP,
I'm a one man army, all complete,
you kids can have your MTV,
you Philistines will meet defeat,
go listen to your POD,
it just aint't like that on the street,
You know I am beefy like Chef-Boy-R-Dee,
Oh yes, I am beefy as a plus-size Tee,
You can have a macaroni or a linguini,
My noodles just got oodles, linguistically,
So why did you desert me like a chocolate cake?
A slice of advice, for the truly half-rate,
If you don't got the gall to initiate,
the patter of prattle is a big mistake,
the fatter the cattle, the better the steak,
rap back you slack-quacker, you large invertebrate,
fo' I send you a plate of humble-cake, instant-bake
Reply
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