
Originally Posted by
ROBBMACK
@_S...
Who you call yourself runnin' thru, sonnin', dude?
You're kidding me right, think I'm funnin' you?
No joke, comic strip, the pun is you.
My flows soak, sonnets rip and punish you..
Don't look back, I'm huntin' you.
Look up! I`m in front of you.
Like a pack, fuk one or two.
You're a light snack, I'm a hungry crew...
We feast when you read like, I eat _S.
i.e. _S, flies eat ripe pieces o' sh|t.
e.g. I'm deadliest when my peace is said,
a dead piece of me is left not dead.
Yet, matures to impress, test gag reflex.
Infect with each read text.
You've let it reach the depths,
but can't eject what's breached your head.
You're runnin' behind, like I.B.S.
I'm runnin' your mind, like I be _S.
Objectively, you're runnin' behind, 'cause I run by _S.
Okay, technically you'd find I'm some bias
but, I'd have to look back to say, "Bye _S".
I'd like to buy _S..
Pay'em to write just to not have to write _S.
Have him go back and forth like he's me and self.
All night texts, _S killin' _S with self replied wrecks.
Each line reflects Columbian tied necks,
_S cryin', "Come on B, write next"
Something on your chest, get it off?
for I've formed in it, to snatch it off.
Four minutes to set it off?
Before men can blink, I bet it dog,
I'd provide shots that'd have Snatch caught.
No breath to catch like a snatch coughed.
Left four fingers short a finished hand,
rest of his limbs contorted in the back of his van.
I can't lie I've had this line for a minute man...
I go for hours 15% can be a bore, and.
A miniscule tour of a tormented boys record of 1774.
When four minutemen came through the door
of a poor hoarding wh0re,
charging silver for minutes with her on the floor.
Gold for more, like her bent on all fours.
When just minutes before, all in it were more.
Vocal chords tore, intestines explored,
and more of the same chore since dinner's porridge was poured.
And more than before mentioned still in store.
As more minutes wore, the wh0re's innards wore more,
and more resembled minced gore than my mute wh0re.
Who with no voice by force not choice implored, "No more men, it's sore!".
"And for such a minute score to be transformed to a dried fruit horde!"
I adore thigh boot sport, but prefer more tied boots for war...
I got sand son, I dilute shores, storm the beach.
Fuk Normandy, nothing norm in these enormities.
Sh|t's deep as the deepest seas.
_S site sees to sight 'cees,
then spites these like he smite Le'.
Which quite rightly seems right trifling,
He's not frightening, not slightly.
He's not the sniping type
more the type sniping, nightly at hole 19.
He was never seen. Hiding, behind scenes?
No disguising light genes once Levi tried writing.
I stand out like menstruation in white jeans.
I cross the line like demonstration in white sheets.
You cross the line scab, I pick it to strike peace.
Sight me when eyes bleed...
You've no lead like Fife's piece.
I've a case of A-Ks like Ice T.
I write rhymes in a red Sharpie.
You write my name in blood, I stop heart beats.I don't start beef,
I shred it, with rare blood flows, talons, and sharp beak.
Leave your read remarks marked red for sharpening.
Tips top points your harping
for my own amusement like its my parks theme,
keeping you in the dark like an art thief...
So, who's been the student?
You've studied me astute since,
you were just a musing nuisance.
Now you're just amusing, like porn at a newsstand
full of nude men and no news bin.
I'll leave off men who do bend
though my two gems have bruised chins.
I was new then, and my movement's grew since.
Like it's juicin', but like you that's a doomed trend.
Behold my faculties, my staff parts 'cees, be lead, like then jews been.
My unmasked facility's got you gassed up, like the jews been.
I'm un-orthodox like a jews chin. You'll need ortho docs to remove pens
from fused limbs, or use them, like a super human mutant
to fend from ruins I've you in.
You're drew in by my two cents like the jews been.
But not by Pharohs, rather my feral unruliness.
Think I threw too many jews in?
that makes since too, imagine WWII, then.
Now throw in burnt jew scents too, pimp...
I'd con ten yous to continue to be proven not prudent.
I throw caution to thewind, though, close the window it blew in.
What's that Mack's back? No, but I swear I hear me when you vent...
You say my name as though I've asked it, and then kept askin'.
You're not hooked like bass is, you're past it.
You're hooked like it's tackle rap.
As though I've knotted the lure and cast it.
I star in your rap like I've been casted,
for the lead, the part of a fascist.
Who profits from massive rations.
Prophets form masses irrations.
Better run off to class kids, rapin' lads and lasses,
while I blast your dad and fuk his fat b|tch.
Can't stop this laughing at ghastly reactions
as I pass gas passin' out paper for asses.
Pass out gassed after emptying glasses.
Is your glass as half pass it's last as my glass is?
Remember the jackal and the raft?
Well here's your paddle back.
Now back pedal thru shallow crap.
Fuk a battle rap! You're hooked 'cause it's grapple rap,
not 'cause I include that on exclusive tracks,
but 'cause I elude that with continuous facts.
Now grapple that in this trap of Macks.
Follow the sentence like the gavel's tapped,
like your back laying flat on the mat.
Fuk your statement, I stay mint, and what I say's meant.
Like gays'd chant a cadence of gayness.
You can't debate the basis my meanings placement
Your words are still born, like your dead unicorn.
Not moving, I still raped it's carcass with the horn that adorned
it's crown before being torn off.
I've sworn off beastiality,
but I'm a beast in reality so I filmed the horse porn.
So no more horny horses runnin' 'round horned,
left him to rest after a piece and yes, he had corn.
So I guess since you left to mourn,
your words still, will be still borin'.
Mine are foreign and lack form,
but pack horror in knap sack for touring.
I'm a terror, it's apparent
you're clever however, you're transparent in layers.
like a terrorist your daring varies
wether they dare you or you dare them.
I'm reminded of Silence of the Lambs,
'cause you stay silent on the lamb.
i'm more like silent, and then BAM!
You dig violence-ultram?
I dug the touch of the dutch, bang WU much?
You fill cuts with spilled guts?
I break fists from cuffs
and cuff fits with cuts of jib.
Roar and rip through the devil's cript.
Scale a ton of skeletons to tip scales where hell has failed.
You've hailed the held, and that's failed as well.
I'd scale your face and leave a tear that spans that scaled.
I brought in tearin' scales of dragons so I strike shield.
You drag in dress and high heels.
I'm ambedextrious, i beat off when I write
I come hard, wanna see, do you skype?
Just in case u neglected the slaughter thread.... you left this behind when u went on hiatus ...