Battles Potassium vs -ian-
RULES
No recording, lets gooo
Max of 28 lines
THIS BATTLE IS OVER
-ian- won this battle!
2 ROUNDS
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Battle on November 25 2015
CHALLENGER'S RAP
- He dish out static tactics hoping he can fool people's attics, and y'all fall for his theatrics
- He talks like my style is that tragic, critizise my violent graphic practice,
- yet his work only dipping into children's heads like he a practiced baptist
- Scoring battles is his thing, checking if we had bulked lines or if we flowed hard,but now that
- we meet in the ring, you'll hit the floor barred N' there'll be no need for the score cards!
- Unleash genius disses, grievous missus when you get chained and crossed like Jesus pieces
- Sees us and freezes, death give its kisses, then we give bucks to homes like I'm paying my leases
- Potent penmanship, sick patient lips, these lines will leave you back flat like Asian strips
- Whenever he's spitting with his booty lips, we all bear with his gloomy tricks
- Cause whenever his battles truly kicks, there's no action seen/scene like boring movie scripts
- It's all fancy rhyme schemes, followed with clumsy punches, then lines on how he's so extreme
- Then he gets voted on by crummy judges, when all he does is put big words into lumpy bunches
- Whenever I step on these premises, I prep pleased services, his words on paper composed of
- Light sentences disguised as tight messages, whilst my sheets go over heads like white supremacists
- In his feedbacks, he gives us shallow shit, even if we don't agree we're force to swallow it
- And follow this, so basically he's been doing gun lines, cause he's been giving us hollow tips
- outbar me? He must be on too much gin and tonic, His lines are blunt like wrapped up chronic,
- But I won't go easy, I'll be all over cracking you up like a stand up comic
- He doesn't drop flare, he drops air that ain't fit for warfare, and he's considered a top tier?
- And I'm not there? When what I kick is fresh like I copped pairs!
- I'm the one with the throne beside, rappers in my basement worn and tied
- all bigot views thrown aside and you wouldn't hang neck to neck with me if you committed suicide
- Informed shooters, armed with rugers, looking for droid like the storm troopers
- Suck up this dirt like a cleaning Hoover, I'm just anxious to move a,
- fucked up act like TV bloopers
- My verse was packed up, i got your grave dugged up with the dirt ceiling
- This win is racked up, I got you bagged up like I'm drug dealing
DEFENDER'S RAP
- Round 2? Really Geril? I buried you the first time, you unearthing a grave mistake
- Sink this bitch in a water crypt, drop deep bombs - that's a depth charge, a shockwave in his wake
- So here comes the Droid, oil up these joints and fire up the cunt-engine
- I've been blowing up at this Twink's verses like a Jihadist a Christian convention.
- I edit out your garbage like I'm at your service, call it disposal
- I stamp your weak lines into bars, mail you letter bombs like I've gone postal
- But you fuck up these verses like a creampie gangbang with them sloppy internals
- That many loads up in the chamber make your shotty infertile
- You shoot blanks, so I won't talk about your gun bars 'cuz you can't pull the trigger
- Sterile Geril your pops lack potency and you're punching flat like a shook jigger
- I tear off the top of your cranium like a crane over a dome stadium
- paint the walls with your brains make phrases like Ancient Romans brutalizing enslaved Germanians
- I'm Caesar in this forum: I came, I saw, I conquered
- You get a thumbs down in this arena 'cuz you didn't fight - your 2nd chance squandered
- I Force chokes when awakened, but you dig asphyxiation - rope raped like Hentai
- but spread eagle don't make a X-Wing, the most you can hope for here is a TIE
- Now you're tripping on that weak, Force-balanced Midi-Chlorian Crystal Light shit
- Well I'm the Sith Lord fuckin' Kool Aid man going, "Oh YAAA!" when the Chrystal's right lit
- I blow up the lab with my method and chronic concentration when I Dabble
- Get you high on K2 with no O2, that's 2 KOs now - from just one peak sample
- this match was snuffed as soon struck, hissing, you're like a pussy rubbed the wrong way
- I'm a snake in the grass, wait for Eve to pass, slit your Adam's apple - the sauce sprays
- now you finally spit from the heart, but the spurts slow to a stammer and trickle
- blood tests show your flow is as anemic as Red cells flagged for hammer and sickle
- you're beat to a pulp and made stationary when I line headers over your footnotes
- Post-It in the Obits, scan your raps for an epitaph: I can't find a good quote
- you shouldn't have Chanced this 'cuz my Acid Raps kill, you burn and writhe on the floor
- another orchestrated death (on line), RIP Sandra Bland and LionGalore.