Battle 1

I ain’t the one to cross, I crucify with ruthless lines,

Your crew confined, I move with minds that weaponize the truest rhymes.

Your truth’s a lie — I scrutinize and euthanize your future pride,

Noose is tied, you’re loopin' cries while I’m loopin’ loops in music's spine.

I’m God-level, you’re odd-tempo with off-mettle,

Talk rebel 'til chalk settles your block’s petals — the plot’s ghetto.

Thoughts metal — I spark mental with dark echoes,

Carved several scars in bars, my art’s retro and heart’s petrol.

You bargain with your bars, I barter breath for arson,

Harvest heads like Spartans marchin’ — target fed, no pardon.

You barkin’? I'm Darwin, the smartest when rappers evolve,

While you collapse in a casket, I’m mastering patterns that baffle them all.

Yeah, I talk big — but I still miss texts and burn toast,

Spaced out, lookin’ like I freestyle my whole workflow.

I trip on nothin’, forget names in the mirror,

But still drop lines so cold, make the reaper get nearer.

So go ‘head — clown me, say I’m awkward or weird,

But y’all tweet tough talk and whisper when I walk near.

I fumble my keys, but I punch with divine diction,

Y’all stumble through schemes while I sun ‘em in five dimensions.

You babble — I battle with talons that rattle the atoms,

My cadence is acid — I'm damaging fabric, dismantling phantoms.

You spit like a glitch — I’m encrypted, encrypted,

Twistin’ the script with a linguist’s precision — gifted and vicious.

I’m venomous wit’ it, embedded in rhythm, I pivot the sentence and sever your spirit,

You sensitive critics be beggin’ for credit, I’m debtin’ your ego and deadin’ your image.

I’m etched in the script like a glitch in the system, encrypted with wisdom and breathin’ the mission,

You pressin’ for clout while I’m pressin’ the limits, and stressin’ the rest like a test for the gifted.

I’m lit with the writtens, admit it, I’m different — you mimic and trip on the minimal, pitiful,

I spit with the syllables, literal missiles, I'm rippin’ through rituals, killin’ the typical.

You cynical rappers be cappin’ and clickin’, but missin’ the soul that’s essential to hit ‘em,

I’m surgical, vergin’ on vertical vision, the pen in my grip is a prism of wisdom.

I laugh at the threats — I’m adaptin’ the steps while you crash in the set like a passive regret,

I’m stackin’ the checks while you gaspin’ for breath, and I’m blastin’ a hex with immaculate depth.

Y’all fragile as eggs, I’m a dragon with legs, spittin’ magma and death when I’m crackin’ the edge,

I’m that in the flesh — what you lack in finesse, I just wrap in a vest and collapse in your chest.