Battles Talk-Sick vs Maverick
RULES
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CHALLENGER'S RAP
- This a hard question to ask, could you accept if the highlights of your life already passed,
- “It’s only uphill from here so there’s really no reason for getting attached”,
- “It’s all for the best if you count your blessings, learn your lessons and never look back”,
- Nah; bitch ima get in my bag, I’m way ahead of my class,
- I could tell I was a gifted writer so I wasn’t to present in math,
- I do not get why they’re mad, let all the tension subtract,
- I see the easy route but I’ve decided I’m ditching the map for a treacherous path,
- Living like Kennedy’s last day; staying driven ‘til I’m done breathing,
- Amen if you believe it, I don’t like to be the one preaching, cuz Godspeed can’t outrun demons,
- Never feeling like enough either, even when I’m with my close people,
- Someone gotta be the odd one out, guess that’s a problem we’ll call even,
- Summer baby always been a winner, I was born in the wrong season,
- Tryna bring out my emotions, I’m coping by smoking a joint for the raw feeling,
- Goosebumps on your arm really, it ain’t even ‘bout the bars now but they’re over your heads like car ceilings,
- Hole in one; on the course eating, you’d be lucky if you par three’d it,
- Who the fuck is giving y’all freebies, kinda looking like it’s all teamwork,
- No squads mean shit, ‘cuz they all switch clubs like golf teachers,
- In a quick year I can promise to you when it’s all over they will not need ya,
DEFENDER'S RAP
- Yeah I remember when I was sittin' in my room,
- twiddling my thumbs, tryna mitigate the gloom
- turning a loose-leaf I'd, written out my bloom
- envisioning in goosebumps a, literary tomb
- like bruises to tattoos, I was smitten when it grew, into what it did
- gettin' cred, loved the kid, but delusions of grandeur
- 'fit for king' what they said, just a loser named Andrew
- really mid', vocab-head, those confusions with tangents
- was since losin' to champions, what a nudge
- turned so bourgeois to candor
- help ya find positives like using what's granted
- 'cause my mind's not a sieve, still savant's how I live
- and these chronicles piveted 'to maturation's advancements
- virtuoso, and I wanted to give
- ian' hanging up the, pen unless
- it's display cases of museums, I'll manifest.
- and I cringe, what was read, razor skids
- but instead I done-did in what's bled this insatiable passion
- flipped a lid, off my meds, started chasin' the half-fulls
- that dopamine with each project that was patiently crafted
- got props from inspo's, other notable names in their status
- may be vain but no pain no gain for the haters I'm laughin'
- really though just putting a smile on ya face' what I'm after
- still 'heavy is the head' inflated with the praise and I'm baffled
- those who braggin' with half a package are airheads, all taffy
- I, wanted to be the best
- longing for the chance to astonish and impress
- they're drawn in how finessed, I was
- now Hans Solo be...flauntin' all the lists
- if wicked no Ponzi this echelon's not for the rest
- not toyin' around try me I'm conscious of the tests
- what it seems, I ain't playin'
- my dreams will take place
- can't take away the reams,
- sometimes becoming supreme's at snail's pace
- and I been 10 years on the same page
- blood sweat and tears, still near starvation pangs,
- fruits of labor peaches and cream with great stakes
- even if I see 'em decades late
- mark my words or make them a meme, I'll say it a-gain
- never hanging up the pen
- 'less it's a museum's display case.