BiggZ and Cyrus vs. Mr. Typcee and Juan Million
- Thread starter -TiM C-
- Start date
LETZ GIT SHIT CRACKIN, AFTER THA LYRICAL 4-4 FLOWZ BLASTIN, WHERE YOU HOEZ? INA FUCKIN CASKET, YOU COULD HAVE A MACHETTE BUT YOU STILL COULDNT HACK IT, YOU CAN HAVE THA LAST LAUGH, BUT ILL BE THA LAST MAN STANDIN, CRAZIER THAN A RABID SAVAGE, DROP HEAVY FLOWZ ON YA DOME LEAVIN BRAIN DAMAGE, TAKE HALF THIS FUCKIN CLIP, IM SAVIN THA OTHER HALF FOR TRAGIC, DAMN IT, WHO THA FUCK CAN FUCK WITH JUAN N THAT SAV TYP? NOT A COUPLE FAGGOTZ, CUZ MY SPEED? STRAIT VELOCITY, MY STYLE? STRAIT MONSTROSITY, JUST CALL ME A RUNAWAY TRAIN CUZ THERE AINT NO STOPPIN ME, I DISH OUT MORE THAN YOU CAN TAKE, SHAKE YA BRAIN SO FUCKIN HARD YOUD SWEAR IT WUZ THA '89 QUAKE, DAMN THAS FUCKIN HARD, LIKE A FUCKIN KILLA SHARK RIPPIN ALL YA PREWRITTEN RAPS APART, 2 MORE EMCEEZ, ADD EM TA THA SHARK ATTACK CHART, FUCK BITEZ, MY HOT ASS RHYMEZ LEAVIN BURN MARKS, REALLY THO, WHO THA FUCK IZ BIGGZ? AH YEAH, THAT LIL PUTO SAYIN FUCK 916, TALKIN ALL THAT SHIT, ILL MAKE SURE YOUR LEGACY NEVER BEGINZ BITCH, AND WHAT BOUT HEX? I HAD FALEN OFF BUT IT STILL TOOK YOU THREE ROUNDZ TO GIT ME, ILL LAY IT SIMPLY, YOUR A FUCKIN SISSY, CRYIN TA SMURF SAYIN: "I WANNA REMATCH CUZ TYPCEE PIMPED ME"....$IDEWAYZ
I'm back to snap the backs of these wack fools tryna act hard/
I make you underground rappers when I bury ya 6 feet in my back yard/
Fetched-far or better yet far-fetched/
Thinkin you can stop Juan and Typcee from leavin ya body chalk sketched/
On cement, pavement or even on black top/
Got ya stop droppin an rollin from the flames we drop/
It's absurd to be callin yaselves emcee's/
Bitch please! your flows suck harder than hoes on they knees/
You wanna judge my rhymes, I pleade guilty to bringin heat/
The sweet smell of victory fills the air, as you fools meet defeat/
Complete my mission while you dishin out style that's obsolete/
Hittin control alt delete to make ya internet flows retreat/
I expected Cyrus to knock fools out in one round/
But in ya last battle it took ya 3 to knock a "Typcee" man down/
You better retire from battlin now cause the possibility of you winnin is remote/
The only way you could beat me in a battle is if the judges didn't vote/
BIGGZ I already squashed, you aint at the same level as my game/
It's a shame that ya rhymes aint as big as ya name/
You plottin fame, but ya style is full of flaws/
15? does mommy know you're rappin bout sex thoughts/
The Juan and Typ connection, no way you can prepare/
How you gon' be ready to battle the greatest when you dont even compare/
I make you underground rappers when I bury ya 6 feet in my back yard/
Fetched-far or better yet far-fetched/
Thinkin you can stop Juan and Typcee from leavin ya body chalk sketched/
On cement, pavement or even on black top/
Got ya stop droppin an rollin from the flames we drop/
It's absurd to be callin yaselves emcee's/
Bitch please! your flows suck harder than hoes on they knees/
You wanna judge my rhymes, I pleade guilty to bringin heat/
The sweet smell of victory fills the air, as you fools meet defeat/
Complete my mission while you dishin out style that's obsolete/
Hittin control alt delete to make ya internet flows retreat/
I expected Cyrus to knock fools out in one round/
But in ya last battle it took ya 3 to knock a "Typcee" man down/
You better retire from battlin now cause the possibility of you winnin is remote/
The only way you could beat me in a battle is if the judges didn't vote/
BIGGZ I already squashed, you aint at the same level as my game/
It's a shame that ya rhymes aint as big as ya name/
You plottin fame, but ya style is full of flaws/
15? does mommy know you're rappin bout sex thoughts/
The Juan and Typ connection, no way you can prepare/
How you gon' be ready to battle the greatest when you dont even compare/
Aye yo, I gots a hollow tip made of flesh,
Set to fuck yo head up worse than david koresh,
Deep trench, warfare nigga, equipped wit agent orange and a bullet proof vest,
Obsessed, wit cutlery and full teks, who down for S&M sex?
Twisted fate, treat this battle like a date rape,
And on this fuckin mic ya not only suck but scrape,
Verbally eradicate two bitches on my dinner plate,
No forks, no steak, just a fuckin nine,
At night my bitch gets jealous, cause I got ya murders on my mind,
I find, no remorse, for a mutilated corpse,
Piss on the crime scene, shit in the police report,
To start n’ finish shit wit two bitches, Typcee n’ Juan Milli,
Smacked out they habitat, bitchmade mc’s tread this concrete jungle an endangered species,
I feast off these, should-be’s, retire-eez,
Typcee shoulda kept his ass as ease, collectin social securitys,
But he back gettin’ smacked the fuck up, for that last rush through his arteries,
As I leave these battle grounds bloody n’ diseased, like the rice patties of the Vietmanese,
Two faggots, even if they cross-breed, no match for me lyrically,
I stick and move, stuck on groove, swallow extasy and spit out leprosy,
Keep testing me, jumpstarted you bitches jaws to a car battery just to watch ya gums bleed,
Truthfully, your obituary is the only thing that gained either of you notoriety,
Or should I get to these hot coat hanger lobotomes? I mock at these, glock at thieves,
Stylisticlly leave two wanna-bes shakin in a neckbrace, like Ali and Christopher Reeves.
Set to fuck yo head up worse than david koresh,
Deep trench, warfare nigga, equipped wit agent orange and a bullet proof vest,
Obsessed, wit cutlery and full teks, who down for S&M sex?
Twisted fate, treat this battle like a date rape,
And on this fuckin mic ya not only suck but scrape,
Verbally eradicate two bitches on my dinner plate,
No forks, no steak, just a fuckin nine,
At night my bitch gets jealous, cause I got ya murders on my mind,
I find, no remorse, for a mutilated corpse,
Piss on the crime scene, shit in the police report,
To start n’ finish shit wit two bitches, Typcee n’ Juan Milli,
Smacked out they habitat, bitchmade mc’s tread this concrete jungle an endangered species,
I feast off these, should-be’s, retire-eez,
Typcee shoulda kept his ass as ease, collectin social securitys,
But he back gettin’ smacked the fuck up, for that last rush through his arteries,
As I leave these battle grounds bloody n’ diseased, like the rice patties of the Vietmanese,
Two faggots, even if they cross-breed, no match for me lyrically,
I stick and move, stuck on groove, swallow extasy and spit out leprosy,
Keep testing me, jumpstarted you bitches jaws to a car battery just to watch ya gums bleed,
Truthfully, your obituary is the only thing that gained either of you notoriety,
Or should I get to these hot coat hanger lobotomes? I mock at these, glock at thieves,
Stylisticlly leave two wanna-bes shakin in a neckbrace, like Ali and Christopher Reeves.
yeah, i noticed taht shit after i posted it... had this verse up days ago (thats what the n/m post is about) but i took it down to do some edits. shit fucked me up when i seen tim's verse.. but fuck it. lmfao. shits coincidental.. but not blatant. Only thing that really fucks me up is its the last line and everything. lol. ah well.
...YOU WOULDA KILLED US ALL...$IDEWAYZ