LNS vs Coh

Battles LNS vs Coh

RULES

No rules!

Max of 64 lines

THIS BATTLE IS OVER

Coh won this battle!

2 ROUNDS

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Battle on November 19 2025

CHALLENGER'S RAP

I read your whole rant, every scrambled bar you tried to send,
Felt like watching a toddler scribble rhymes with their left hand.
You started with “L.N.S bitch sound like a drug
Bruh, that line hit as soft as a teddy bear hug.
That wasn’t a diss, that was word salad with regret
Sounded like Google Translate had a panic attack mid-set.
“Straight illiterate sprinkle litter in”
Yeah, we can tell you wrote that while your brain was buffering.
You rhymed “literally” with “literacy,” like that’s supposed to be heat
Bro really out here recycling syllables like a curbside street.
Then you hopped into cops, titles, waves, graves
Man, your flow got lost and started digging its own cave.
Your rhyme scheme crashed harder than your phone at 2%
Like you freestyled yourself into a verbal accident.
“You’re so non-lethal you couldn’t get charged for battery”
Funny, ‘cause your bars couldn’t charge a damn AA.
“One follower!”—bro flexed that like it was fatal,
But you typed that from an account made yesterday on unstable cable.
“Pick a lane punk (Who me?) yeah you fuck!”
Why you arguing with yourself mid-bar? You stuck?
Whole verse felt like you were battling your reflection,
Like a therapy session without adult supervision.
“Shake the lava lamp break it across his face!”
My guy… is your diss track sponsored by Target’s home décor space?
And the “class” line? Man, you teaching what, exactly?
“How to rhyme like Dr. Seuss falling down a stairwell” academy?
Then you ended all dramatic
“Am I rotten? Am I babbling? Am I snapping in?”
YES.
But not in the cool way, don’t pretend.
You sound like a microwave having an existential crisis again.
And ending with “I need to be humbled, hope you take the win”
That’s the clearest thing you wrote
Finally, a bar I can take in

Challenger

LNS

DEFENDER'S RAP

//haha pussy boy removed the original battle and set a new one
Don’t hold back? But I’ll beat you black on da beat
All bout my rap? Let’s talk bout yours it’s ass
You couldn’t spit shit if you had MiraLAX
Haunt you in the reflection “Chill it’s a mirror relax”
But you might just relapse in less then 3 raps
Bitch yo ‘furnace’ lack scraps barley stay lit
This boy ain’t big enough yet go back to sucking on mama’s tit
Your skills gap next to mine is as bad as the one in ya tracks
“Here’s the thing bout retarted people they don’t fucking know their retarted”
Maybe you’ll win due to bias votes over digital group stability
Over lyrical ability kill this hillbilly fore’ he’ll illy
So step in the booth confess your confession
Ain’t talking studio I’m talking reflection
Future profession is working concession
Court is in session and judge I messin the straight dogshit this man is pressin got the press throwing up
This boy prolly ain’t hit his growth spurt yet he still growing up
Halloween passed but you still dressed as the reaper
Reap what you sow lace the snicker with a toxin he a heavy sleeper
Watch a therapist tear this shit final moments better cherish it
So lay down and take the chair while I fry you in a flare
//WAIT!
Strike like lightning quick perish from lighting like Dracula swift
Sike your more of a sidekick cause on the mic your shit ya straight dimwit your dim in wit
Got no throne to sit got ya bone to split just quit while you can
Fore’ you rocked like granite make a grand in night act like ya got the fight
And that your gonna smite bitch if you pulled the sword you wouldn’t struck the thee
Popping pills and dropping kills to pay in bills no O2 swollen gills heated grills to grill for thrill
Pop smoke crop da heart poor design delight the vines to scratch you vinyl
This a vile match best dial fore gets homicidal dripped in hostile style
Go verse for verse like it’s versatile might be awhile so why not join the pile drag the corpse across a mile
Rounds connect like condyle get the crowd all riled burnt beyond mild
You had rolled the diy so where’s those wings to fly?
Maybe you had thought this would be easy nah man fuck that
I smoking you like a rolled up ounce puffing into clout did I say clout? I mean cloud
Clouded by thoughts of doubt clouded by thoughts of flooded blood
Drowned deep in my sorrow I bury the hatchet with the blood I borrow from your marrow
Sharpened arrow tips get poached you the sheep you screaming “BAHH!”
Bitch I get paper from facts you get paper from Fax
So when your ass fall flat on the asphalt
Just know you ain’t get a second life like an ass alt
Step into battle with me you’re at fault
You tied to my track and I’m the conductor and with a wave of my fist I let down with an open palm
//heh heh “Conductor”x3
I’ve been fucking sick of writers like you always acting “I’m ready I’m ready”
Want some advice that’s true? Drop the pen let the ink drain
Put ya pain in something more fitting for ya like therapy
Anything you write I’ll parry pull up in style like Perry
You the reason the baby carriage exist took off the list
Cut ya wrist off with that weak pad
//stop

Defender

Coh