DEFENDER'S RAP

• Where did I start off last, oh right a {GLADIATOR WIT JAW BONES N' CHAMPION RINGS}, everything about you will die thats a Butch Cassidy, and Sundance Kid scene, fo' Trill it's delight and pain "death is a dialogue inbetween".
• May wanna call your punches off once on drugs-career's been a "Nailed" arrest smokin' Indica. This bitch'll want the limelight like a {Marriott Hotel}, with Hip Hop and you are like this atomistic fallacy spliffin' together genus asperula weed blunt-spiralin' interleaf, Active Shooters up in this shit we the def' of making {BLOCKS SCATTER} when we arisen AK-47 heavy metal blastin' when we interruptin' pondered cults.
• This dude Akimbo-work'd rising a revolution full of joy computin' bars cut the chit-chat and talk wit Kronze-pummeling em' quick he won't expect it like an advanced warfare's blackbox. Dude ain't dom-leader like Washington Booker T, you probs rockin' that I.D 'till {drafted} guns blowin' both sides in air wrapped up his life in a war-zone unable to {trash it}! Dude's softer than {terry cloth} broadcast you to label this try-hard couldn't even impress Charlie Sloth, battlin' a Rap Bot beefin' "brap"ll both his temples skill-a-holic smooth with the {M11} shard both his atriums I'ma, heart breaker.
• Comic con sex, I spit tighter than Wonder Woman'll {WHIP AT YA NUTSACK}, you're bars ain't firin' rhythm it'll copy that of a Mac! Stuntin' Trill-lyrical Flip Rap acrobats It's like 300, with a gun get a kick of this bullet This Is Sparta only added Tommy-blasters and kalakash! Don't botha clashin' you're Hip Hop vibes are terrible, worse than The Happy Time murders, Jennifer Garner, this pen'll departure, from your hands shit this poet's a goner! Poundin' slugs wit the {LIGHT WORK} drownin' man when words on this {MIC BURST}. I'm ready-armed pistol-cracked all ya gun bars need some new {RHYMES NERD}, nerdy glasses chap'll be Scott Pilgrim VS The World}, This dude a Dan Payne Underworld Lycan I'm like the main-char top teir Scott Speed-Michael Corvin.
• Should get more punches to rumble as your metaphorical forklift. I'll pop dis dude some light in a dark place like {THEATER SCREENS}, you've been infrared laser beam'd. Born to continue rip em' like tissue spits ain't got the value so, why battle with my production I'll chase em' away at Gun Avenue blast every streets he walks with my poppin' clips and make revenue, create some blows, hit for studio, give em' a nostolgia death-threat like {2 LIVE CREW} made ya {GRAVE STONE}, he'll erupt in anger a human-walking volcano. You've {used by new} schemes I'm stayin' original in this {PLAY ZONE}!
• He'll put this battle match on Blind Mode, but he ain't realized I'ma mother fucking psycho. you make my skin-reek from ya illness. composure of this sickness withdrawn spleen with spears hella cryptic
• Where's the skills and shit, pistols ready-whippin' his body in cemeteries at obituaries cliff-droppin' peaks, style ain't worth shit dis "master" good at-putting glam on it bringa noise through his ears like Alien and Predator soundwaves burstin' out his stomach.
• Ancient beef come cometh strike em' wit these comets, he'll be the hundreds I drop call me {WILT CHAMBERLAIN}, andre-sippin' proached cockin' gauges treatin' me like I'm ya sideman twitchin' after he executes a mic jam critique'n' killed Hip Hop by stabbin' it wit a needle-pitchin' your fans'll start snitchin' it becomes madness, rest ya body in ashes get better fuck the practice I'm in darkness turned this menace from happiness to sadness. Expressin' the life how Trilluminati becomes a phantom. Packin' Benz let the rocks {TWIST YA}, runnin' ya ass to the liqour and brew drinking for {DESPAIR}!
• Battlin' a titan, 'props to this dawg a {A BONE FOR TRYING}. Sweat dripping through your face when you witnessed me at my Apex.
• Ya either at your {PHONE OR WRITING} placin' it to {TAPE DECK}. Talkin' to your conscience. As it comes up at me with a broad stance. Rip ya spine wit {CHROME OR IRON} splittin' shells poppin' swishers blowin' amps.
• Expressive-disease'd Saint Ignatius 'itch-skin scratching wit the finger tips like your body was an itchy-record disk. Comin' at me with playrights like Shakespear wreckin' dis fool wit a smooth one easy spit, he'll get group-votes with fire like {CREW 180 CLIPS}.
• Powered ya thoughts with Yosemite vapors wailful bagpipes lamenting, keen ya loss Buckley's hope, success Excel'd lyrical advisability. Cranium-cracked from dementia kicks. I'm battling an iconoclastic with verse debilitation. Boostin' narcotics kleptomania skills, simpleton beef's in gaberdines rich clothes a budget squeeze. Word facilitation Trilluminatti-productions Hip Hop obedientiary, workin' industry wit ya verse laboratory, manufactory workhouse style babishness. Reckless maniac put at rest. This nigga was slept.
• Spreadable bacterium weildin' Baculine canes masculine-caged queer "fierce" till' he seen dark-night Badadooks, fleein' like zombie apacalypse causin' runaway bulk zoning pedestrians bolted, blast 'dis "dead" man's head when I shoot.
• Rookie destroying crews tryna rise a career while you've done to a dick with an erection become's a horny masterbating dude. Each flow takes {"ONE STROKE AT A TIME"}, anti-bacteria bacterialogist killin' em' with Bleach {GUNS GO GAT' A SWINE}.
• Wiped out wit Ammonia cleaners spittin' flow-ships infinite Bunker fuels, slam ya strikes like Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarios De Columbia dude'll easily go abyssinia simultaneously gettin' anorexia. Shine bitin' mic'll hit you harder than Mike Tyson, spittin' basics while I'm the ultimate violence rip-off of your show biz, leave your bones to dust after they are broken. Wrecking bless gun-thrower hit wit the snare and bass nigga explode with happiness launched em' an Al Green bomb-breezin' rhyme degrees, adrenaline momentum futururistic lyrical chi, words supersonic out the lips rollin' Saiyans sun-explosions workin' nova heat pullin' this pen out my sleeve armed with bars sawed off ya schemes'll quickly make Trill leave awakened the forasken'd beast on his melodious flow. Trandsetter glam'd writtens battlin' a cheat who's dreams of symphonious goals. Knockin' this thug away from his tonic prose. Bust style barely flexin' supreme trappin' breakbeats on underground streets breakin' jewelz and autotune like he was a spin-off Jay Z!
• This gimmick said he'd have his battle bars done tonight. Well, it's night and I ain't see any battle-match sent from blind! It's, gon' be tomorrow soon. Shit we already in it I'm not even done with this dude. Still got moves to improve, zoomin' boomin' mic gripping to my fist.
• Righteous in this way I spit, Drop em' in a pit let a beat swerve to his thoughts match verses to it and quickly rock his lips. I don't know why you chose to battle me I got em' choked up like he was coughing out Hennessey.
• Cook em' n' the bakehouse roast em' up knew he's baked. step off pinnacle of my lyrical facade packin' the pen right quick. Feelin' more than thirty bars adjust my mind and accelerate. I'm tryna be real while you're jumpin' on, wit a whackey gymc song smokin' blunts long.
• The shit you make sucks trying to generate. I've finished him off too quick I should give this man a break.
• Break, nah I'm messin' cripple-his bones'll ash and disintegrate. Infiltrate style man isn't tuff. He's tryna become king of site more he tries to be work isn't enough.
• You spit junk tracks impressin' crowd, a maniac wit the gangsta shit in his music. Sayin' he bodying' easy where there's still room for improvements. He's a catastrophic disaster with a broken mic cord.
• Crossin' the gates topple off from my bridge storm spittin' thick broads of justice I'ma demonic vanishing along ya body this how myths start.
• Trill on his Wick-shit wicked incidents buzzin bzzzt truncheons slingin' wit druggists he's unbalanced lemme adjust him and flip em' right side up like {FRONT DISCS}.