Welcome to Gaia! ::

[ Nice to have you back Miroku. But don't start s**t again, I won last time, so cool it. Even these kids from Baltimore said so back then, so just chill.]

Aight, time to brush these Baltimore bitches off my shoulders,
You spitting n' pissin' kidney stones, while I fill you with boulders,
Who you expect to deck when you runnin' with empty gun holders?
My rhymes are repetitive? Don't get mad cause your whoopin' is consecutive,
Rap is supposed to be competitive, but wheres the competitor?
Pretendin' like yous a predator, when you can't even use a spellin' editor,
Or get out a metaphor,
I'm your rhyme creditor, and your broke and laid out,
Trade out your flow, it doesn't rhyme, its old and played out,
You were shiverin' when this started, and you still afraid now,
Takin' your fruity bitches out and makin' hater-ade now,
You ran out of rhymes, so you took one of mine and replayed it out,
Like Biggie takin' Tupac's rhymes to downgrade now,
This ain't a playground, lil' boy, go play at your arcade now,
Or you here to ask me for some jade now?
This is a big boys game, you should of stayed out,
Cuz your ********' with the Midwest brigade now,
I'll have your lights fade out, Like my multis flow cascade out,
Whose house to invade now? You told me to beat it,
But your girl took care of that, and I didn't even need it,
This is my game, my life, rap, I breath it,
And your a** don't know s**t about it, thats why you retreated,
And got treated, I feed you a buffet of rhyme,
But now your defeated, so stop wasting my time.

Xero, why I seen you lurkin' the rap forums before,
How you gonna say we don't know nothing about rap for?
You the stupid a** askin' people if Tupac was from Baltimore,
I don't even get what you two squakin' for,
They askin' Hurricane to reign, so I'm gonna make it pour,
I'm goin' easy on you bitches, I ain't lured by the Devil's lore,
Where the last guy? You guys can make a group called the Homo four,
Ace, cause' I'm gonna trump you like the Trojan War,
I'm above expectations, yous an underscore,
I go hardcore, you two are the ones that are soft,
Your rhymes are s**t, and everyone getting a waft,
I hear you bitches coughed, cause my flow is ill,
And like I did to Miroku, I'm goin' in for the kill,
But unlike you he actually had some rhymes to grill,
So calm down son, or Hurricane will storm you like French to the Bastille,

M, don't start s**t again, just try and forget it,
Unlike these Baltimore bitches, your somewhat legit,
So don't come up here startin' some beef my friend,
You know I can already school ya all week, do I have to do it again?
Thats great that you got six figures in the bag,
But it's different with me, cause I got six of your niggas in the bag,
Theres room for one more, so I'll let the baretta roar,
So I guess I'll pick the rest of the East off the floor,
After my rhymes blow through it like a C4,
We at war, and your soldiers want to cease fire,
So go back home, stop rappin', please retire,
Or I'll put you in the dirt, and have the worms make you expire,
Call your boys, I ain't afraid of the church choir,
I'll sing you some death notes while the gats transpire,


Hurricane sendin' all these ******** to hell. Midwest. Chi-town fine.

Aight, we'll play it out like this Miroku. xD

Don't call me a 'dawg', you the one rollin' over,
Rappers as good as me are as rare as a four leaf clover,
And I don't care if you got that s**t on your neck,
Cause' it won't matter after it meets the Tek,
I'll leave you a wreck, like a certain city in Lousiana,
I'll send your boys packin' like the Alamo and Santa Anna,
Slurrs are part of my entity, call it ghetto communication,
Its our dialect, the only way to warn you about evacuation,
Advocation, of all the fallen rappers, I am,
And I don't got to put apostrophes so people get my rhymes man,
Damn, I'm takin' you fools, and marking you out,
You the lightning? Then why am I sparking you out,
You barkin' your mouth, But you blowin' nothing but d**k,
Chi-town the land of the gun, so remember who you ********' with.

Great to have you back M, but leave Baltimore to climb out of their own hole.

Hurricane, remember the name. Chi-town fine. Midwest.

(My flow sound weird because when i write them its to a beat not occapello)

You call ya self the hurriicane
Last time i checked i geard that was a wrestler
Time to let you know all this time i was testin ya
You mine as well step away from the mike and then go
When we here ya flow you make nate dogg go oh no
But its my time to rock show
I dont even need a glock you kno
Dealin with me you mine as well be on death row
I dont gotta bring ya town in it
Cause they already kno
You might think you a emmcee
But in reality they a bit shrimpy
your as mature as ren and stimpy
I got nothin against chi town
Got me thinkin why am i goin agsinst this fools towns
I dont need curse words to put you rhymes in the ground
You can talk about my town
But you got nothin on me
so your the weakest emcee
I dont wanna hear no plees
So im gonna let bygons be bygons and let you be

(M iroku i like that city rhyme
i am ending this now cause this is gettin boring and i see no end)

The words are written my rhymes are spoken like writing on paper( words ) free styling rhymes in person...

[ Ah, gotcha. xD Mine are freestyle too, but I take off the natural stumbles, and put in transitions.]

Hurricane.
Midwest.

Check.

Yeah, Maddiox is through, he's been a hella done,
Your p***y cat crew, won't "Stickwitchu", They on the run,
You challenged me thinkin' it'd be a hella fun,
Now your gettin' burned twice as hot as the sun,
I've already won, and I hope you realize half your s**t doesn't rhyme,
Your a disgrace to B-more, you reppin' should be a crime,
So in that sense, your a wannabe thug pretendin' to be in the game,
Beam in my face? b***h, I gotta a beam in your brain,
All your rhymes seemin' the same,
Continuously feedin' us the lame and inane,
So when reality hits like a freight train,
Your gay a** won't have to worry about significant weight gain,
Turn around and ask Ace, Do these pants make my a** look fat?
And he's like, "Your Jenny Craig a** needs to figure out where to put that",
Catch bullets like Moss, but maybe in the back,
Or straight in the mouth, so we can kill off the source of whack,
You keep tryin' to copy some disses, but it's my prowess and balls you lack,
You got rubber band banks, filled with empty stacks,
I'll tax you bitches, You ain't Wilmur, there ain't no cash money,
There is just me puttin' my stash on your honey,
Then we get together, and I bash in your bunny,
Gash in your tummy, and sperm in hers, I hear you curse,
While I got the blade to your neck, and you hittin' me with your coach purse,

Stand up.
I got Maddiox and his world in the palm of my hands.
Hurricane, Midwest you know we're in command.

Chi-town fine.

xD Thanks :O Have you read some of Dragos that are backed up? As well as mine? There are some really sick ones there.