Battles JUNKEY vs Tewsly
RULES
No rules!
Max of 20 lines
THIS BATTLE IS OVER
Tewsly won this battle!
3 ROUNDS
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Battle on May 23 2025 and Battle on May 27 2025
CHALLENGER'S RAP
- What is the work for if nothing for show for
- Been driven all your life just end up twice
- In the dirt poor that ain't right struggle with
- All might till my soul sore, but people kept
- Talking stepped out and kept walking does
- It matter though dodging all the bull as the
- Matador with the red cape superhero as all
- for one's good disciple hand on bible greatest
- Enemy is you the human desire disease to
- Compete to create energy atomically picked
- Your bone clean been buried in fear and envy
- Got ego to feast in plenty you slow evidently
- Wasn't rich but wealthy is nothing you can tell
- Me viewed since baby atop sycamore trees
- No remorse lately I'm deaths melody sing you
- Ready I say are you ready rocky to eternal
- Silent night the winds are heavy grown into
- Man can't hate to see fall you've met your
- Grave fit your cradle and all
DEFENDER'S RAP
- //Verse 1
- I'm twisted, not full conflicted into hell
- But switch up and tell you how much I lifted
- In front of them to, next to you is a wicked vivid
- Videos and fixedly gifted to help you to perform a stunt,
- But the more you go blunt, the more you stun your hunt,
- Run in my uniform, it's my runnin' form, war cunt
- Is what they say huh, identified and one gun bust
- And shunned gore, glorified and lorded to the trust lord
- More floor boards bore and fuss, let's cuss toward the dust lord
- Called my four boys to the court, yesterday they walk forward to a rust sword
- Rushed with for boarders in the sort, spotted with chalk, they got chopped like lust poured,
- Chalked up a sentence, watched them get cocked by law, trust floored as they pop pills,
- Popped a present presence as heavens doors hoard, and five more got sentenced to pop pills
- Blue or red, pick the pill, Blue is heaven, red is hell, puppetry hands he controls,
- We're just hell's children in the even deep end, poetry is gods hands as he controls are pens,
- We beg and tell him and we frail and fail to let him rear end our lives to gods hands