Bring in the Rhyming war, and im swinging my Mayan sword,
Im grinding lords, and binding cords around blind whores,
My score, doubles, triples, aint that phenomenal,
Rap crap with my gat strapped to the abdominal,
Aint it ironic that I smoke chronic chronically,
I Blast comets and spat vomit demonically,
Let loose the harness, bomb it, im on to ya g,
Study harmonics, electronics, but anomalously,
Remain underground, as the wonder found son,
Hit the beck when I rip the set and the thunder sound comes,
By the end of my wrath you won’t want another round one,
You worthless, like a circus, and your another clown hung,
It’s my prime blast, my rhymes by pass Einstein’s ass,
What the fuck you gonna discover now huh?
Nothing, so stop bluffing, 7 bitches teach,
I’ll knock you all concussions and eleven stitches each,
holla back....

this is tha kind of rhymin that is so ill that you dont even need a Beat....
you should add on and just make a song wit straight rhymin and no hook
would be dope

hope 2 hear/read mo

^%^^^ Tastes like a winner, Nice an Short, Enjoyable with Multies an Flowness


Good times

this would be a sick collab verse