C Teezy
Strife The Terror
Makairo The Hero Of Rhyme
I'm a sick, sadistic, crazy mother ******** licked ********' wounds off niggas just to make their cuts sting after they beat the s**t out of them. I've ********' let niggas get hits on me, just for the adrenaline rush before I break they a** up.
I ain't never killed nobody, but hell, I started s**t off that led to it. Ya'll don't know me or know s**t about me. I got nothing to lose. I'm just that damn sick.
And ******** Chaos. Where the ******** did that f*****t come from riding Ayfere's d**k and bitching at me?
Old a** white ********' f*****t. I ain't no racist, but it's funny how I only end up beefing with white kids. Anyway, that cracker needs to move out of his momma's house, go get a job and get off this damn website at 35 years old and s**t.
You CREATING BEEF WHERE IT ISN'T!!!
It's Mak.
Don't start with me, *****. I gave you props.
Chaos Diss
I'm quick to capture all disasters,
Verbal master clashin' faster at the
abbrassions of the brains
remaining played out and detained
by their own arrogant
random, ramblings,
Lacks of common sense - no offense
but I tend to offend without attempts,
I'm direct therefore your fillers
work like compasses, for me those ain't s**t.
They won't fit with the plan,
He who demands quality brands
in lyrics and then
he whispers his words, pitter patter of fictional verbs,
Nobody's heard the Malificence that Chaos can supposedly spur,
Burning emcees? You blur between fiction and reality,
Diction? No relation to religion that isn't a computer system?
Aging by the day and still staying home to play wit' games
made for children. You isn't gay? No woman, and still no weekly pay.
Weak dismayed, he's displayed nothing but a key parade,
Bored as I am, atleast I start s**t, I spark blazes with my quotes like Imus.
Speak to the tracks from he who is Capricious or the infectious sounds of Vyrus,
For months he seeks to be an MC, but lacks to realize he needs to be able to bust, free, flow.
He knows nothing of the culture except what occurs between different colors,
He ain't used to brothers. Irate, why?
Abusive childhood produced self-esteem issues?
You're clearly limited and bound. Sounds so deep underground
that he hasn't made a verse that's been heard off of the platform on which his fingers pound.
Vanish back into the vanquished abyss in which you hid in,
Dismissal's given, you've been rid of your spirit. You don't spit s**t, you listen.
Who are you to speak or judge.
Without a voice, who gives a ******** you ain't involved, let thought dissolve and keep your stupid releases up your a** crack,
Time will end before the world heres even the smallest snippet of that long awaited last track.
For me? Nothing's serious, verses just for fun. I detest wealth.
But for you keystyling may be as good as live rhyming, but...
Please, stop lying to yourself.
I want to do audio.
Reply
