Common: The Micatastrophe Survivor's Scroll

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The Survivor's Scroll
Micatastrophe

Name: CastrO
From: CANAWHAT
E-Mail: Dmxx
November 19, 1998 at 15:34:55 (EST)

I'm burning niggaz like sliding on astroturf/
Battling me iz like nurf or nutting/
Feel da ill vibes I bring/
niggaz worship me like I was a rap king/
Bring your screw faces and watch CastrO undo you like shoe laces/
Brace ya self for this ill kid rhyme flow/
shine more dan mop and glow/
giving more beat downs like Evander and Bowe/
friend or foe state ya case,FOE/
watch Castro shit in ya face/
battling me is like racing Donavon for first place,
don't waste your time/
embrace my shine/
iz you ready for combat/
make shore you bring ya nine/
waq rappers deserve a fine/
Castro shred ya mine/
Go off on this track silently like Pantomime/

CastrO big up to my man onyx KC what

Name: Midnight*(TheSilentAssassin)*
From: the d( etroit )
E-Mail: thesilentone3
November 18, 1998 at 19:06:51 (EST)

adjacent to bricks
is how hard i stick
rappers turned bitch
a slit wrist
is only a scratch
compared to the pain i dismiss
watch as i
psychiatrically diss
rap patients
who get caught up in the mist
receive a brain twist
as i react quick
like a genie granting a wish
im grandng this
savagely deep frying cats like fish
serving lyrics
like a waiter does a lunch dish
in this system
im able to disperse tight verses
after a million rehearses
that were my worsest, remaining stationless
in a form of electric when getting liquidated
so to me no one comes closest
speak now
and get your tongue snatched like purses
spilling overdoses
of verbals causing avalanches
splitting crowds of madness
like Moses
collecting passport passes
and flooding all escape passages
rhymes as tight a stitched packages
accompanied by style with more advantages than a boxer fighting with 8 arm appendages

Name: Mystic
From:
E-Mail:
November 18, 1998 at 00:13:33 (EST)

I'll bring skills and protection/ a verbal reflection/ brain-wave connection/
harder than an erection/ You wrote it wrong, I'll make the correction/ tear you apart like biology dissection/ I'm not in a coma, your rhyme got me awake/ challenging any M.C. who comes fake/ You ain't gonna win, that's just my take/ I got a monster inside like the Loch Ness Lake/ Straight off my brain, I bring you this treat/ Short and sweet/ While you still get cold feet/ I'll rock the stage like I rock the street/ Got lyrics compacted more solid than concrete....

Name: Dee Phunk
From: Strong Island, NY (back on the rise...)
E-Mail: deephunk
November 17, 1998 at 15:08:39 (EST)

Extremely nice with mine / slicin' rhymes from competition twice my size / oppsition take my wise advice and precisely splice your lines / Solid design / Overqulified frame of mind / Sustain your time / the lame kind left the game blind / feel your brains fry / With the speed of jet skis / Caressin' pressed keys / Leavin' the rest messy / Inducin' stress and greed / enemies wet producin' sweat beads / For the time being / All I'm is seeing is beings fleeing from my mass lyrical breathin' / Believe in me or see your peeps grievin' / The better man / The 4th letter man / prophetic rap veteran / Sick since birth, never takin' medicine / Demonstrate patience / Greatness placed when I lace it / Try to fake / From the roof to the basement / I violate like probation / Extensive / Design rhymes demented / Inventive / Shatter the baddest rapper with my caliber / Instant medical expenses / Second guessin' / Your man from from the Strong Isle represented / Dullin' your senses / Breakin' down all man to man and zone defenses

"Damn...ya'll feel that?" -Erykah Badu

Name: Sarad
From: VA! Baby, Believe That!
E-Mail: SDaven
November 17, 1998 at 01:25:16 (EST)

yall niggas still 16 bit, Im 32 and automatic/blast thoughts over static, leave the whole rap scene in havoc. This mental assault rifle will stifle any competitor/ heat seeking preditor sending threats to the editor. (Man Im tellin' ya)/ Its the real deal, while ya face turn teal/rap to kill like 4 pounds of steal. Mind cocked im sparkin' it, bring light to triple darken-ness/burn like carpet sex, this musical arsonist. The year of the dragon cause Sarad spit fire, tounge sharp as barbed wire/ here to build an empire. Melt tracks like locamotives, my shit is loca focused/ conquering me, like pennies with holes that shit is hopeless. Bust off like desert eagles, smooth as buick reagals/ precise like Bugsy Segal, My thoughts sould be illegal. From the WEB to the streets Sarad give yall niggas sneak peaks/ these words, to me, are like taking the safety off the heat. ............No Beef.

To yall wack ass non-mc's. You know who u are. Keep practicing before you display yaself online. And stop putting verses in everyday I get tired of reading the same persons ryme. VA baby!

Name: DjDos
From: The D(Detroit)
E-Mail: oldb86
November 15, 1998 at 00:03:16 (EST)

Yo my lyrics is harder then steal for real\when i see a nigga start shakin I go for the kill\shits real in the battlefield\scared u so damn bad u need pill to sit still\who u thought it was? the nigga who hit so hard\the nigga who made u shit in yo pants and still had time to pull you hoe card\u thought I was allmost done just when i got atrocious, ferociuses\killin u slowly like over doses\see here niggas who step are automatic goners\cuz on the mike i'm eatin niggaz up like jeofrey dommer\

Name: Mystic
From:
E-Mail:
November 14, 1998 at 05:26:59 (EST)

Phoedee, I got a reputation to protect/
And no disrespect, but there is one thing you seem to neglect/
When writing your rhymes, inject some thought/
If you have any talent, show what you got/
I'll solidify this battle, and win twelve-zero/
Make you look up to me, like I am your hero/
and maybe I should be; you need some motivation/
Your lyrics are seriously in need of elevation/
But this is your first rap, give it some time/
Your skills will climb, you'll write a better rhyme/
For now, make like TLC and creep/
I gotta go, you've put me to sleep....

Name: Joe Haber
From: Portland, OR
E-Mail: jojohaber
November 13, 1998 at 22:14:04 (EST)

I got more jams than Smuckers or Welch, suckas will belch/
Rhymes appear like red welts on vaginas thatHelt-skelt/
I'm like the Magnum Force, grab a horse's power from your V-8/
Battling me is like a crosseyed homo trying to see straight/
A knee scrape is all the injury you incurring/
I got Da Game like Snoop, without, the juice and gin blurring/
My senses, cause now all that nigga drops is jerky filler/
Fucked up on Doggfather way before Percy Miller/
But back to the fronting you're heading into backwards/
Dropping flat words, with more pussy shit than a gang of cat turds/
My styles smooth like that Strawberried bitch's filed nails/
I ride rails to locomotize peeps see-through like bride veils/

Name: NIGGAMORTIS aka ILLITERATURE
From: BOSTON
E-Mail: bigcel42
November 13, 1998 at 09:38:47 (EST)

consider me hip hops UNIVERSAL/
let the lead from pencils CONSUME the CIRCLES/
i answer when like NEWS COMMERCIALS/
SCREW the RUDENESS let the MUSIC HURT YOU/
a SUITABLE EXCUSE to ABUSE your CURFEW/
USE CONFUSED 3rd eye VIEW to BLUR CREWS/
the REACTION to THIS/
BLAST IT in WHIPS/
niggas be ASKIN ME IF/
im TAPPIN HIS CHIC/
i tell him "naw my dicks just the chapstick FOR LIPS"/
dont ASK ME THAT SHIT/
im BACK/
so WHOEVER WANNA BATTLE COME AT ME...AND GET SOME/
when i SPIT IT NUMBS/
and MOST OF YA SHIT IS DUMB/

OFF the KNOT.......more often then NOT.......

Name: M.Y.S.T.I.C. (-check the acronyms-)
From:
E-Mail:
November 12, 1998 at 16:47:14 (EST)

for Many Years Subjected To Ignorant Culture/
its hard when those around you are feeding like vultures/
representing MY Struggle To Incorporate Credibility/
into the minds of those with no ability/
to ignore the past & look at the problems of the present/
the ideals they stand for, embody, and represent/
causing the oppressed to despise & resent/
never given a chance to be content/
white kids praised for work on blackboards/
only chance for blacks is success on backboards/
have no goals to aim towards/
reverse the situation & look at it backwards/
Cynicism In Today's Society Yearly Multiplies/
racism is more subtle but it relies/
on this very fact of its own elusiveness/
helping it survive and perpetuating abusiveness/
America's becoming a country of ambivalence/
definitely separate and lacking equivalence/
one final plea for the madness to relent/
Masochistically, You're Spiralling Towards Intense Contempt.

Name: DstraughtThoughts
From: HydeParK, Chi,iLLaNoYZe
E-Mail: midwaymonsta
November 12, 1998 at 02:11:25 (EST)

when i speak my mind//
reconstruct yo design//
I'm that sign of the times//
alliance of violent crimes and silent nines//
dividing spines with enticing lines//
i bind the rhyme to venom//
and spit armageddon//
piss bedlam and deficate bad intentions//
from lead projections bearing smith & wesson emblams//
hold degrees of animosity//
initiating asphalt assault attrocities//
i'm urban from conception to curtains//
windy city street urchin//
lurkin with the silencer chirpin//
cremate all debate//
devastate when i demonstrate hate//
saturate ya physical with hot material//
i'm that criminal element//
thats prevelant in urban tenemants//
dead president holding, chest folding//
leaving mics smokin and skulls imploding//
its apocalype, when Dstraught get...

Name: Midnight*(TheSilentAssassin)*
From: the d ( etroit )
E-Mail: thesilentone3
November 11, 1998 at 12:28:27 (EST)

mic slashin
causing accidents like 4 way intersections
taking questions
transforming them into answers
got emcees off the pay-roll like Mc Hammer dancers
administering cancer
with anti kemo enhancers
fully loaded electro-shock proof energizers
opponenents tripping off of live wires
getting fried like leaves in forest fires
im a rhyme supplier wearing contestants out like bald bycicle tires
throwing metaphors like ninja stars
aiming for your head hard leaving scars
apprehending your mentality like stolen cars
got it trapped like being behind bars
sharp like the beard of lucifer
i'll play the role of pilot and be the crucifier
leaving all watchers excited life Newly wed house byers

Name: Psyclone
From: Marysville, WA
E-Mail: psyclon
November 10, 1998 at 16:43:45 (EST)

your pathetically weak attempts to MC are hopeless, you can quote this/ I transgressed the outer boundaries of dss when I wrote this/ on my way to my destination to awaken a sleepin nation/ and revive hip-hop like CardioPulmonaryResusitation/ I give a demonstration of an original creation/ the byproduct of contemplation, hardwork, love, and dedication/ concentration and focus while everything you say bogus/ it's all and illusion like abracadabra and hocus pocus/ pullin rhymes outta your hat as somebody else writes 'em/ fights 'em to the death bite some flesh and then I lights 'em/ up into flames, MC bonfire maims/ and disfigures bitch ass MCs I ain't playin games/ I blames society for real hip-hop's lack of notoriety/ their brains couldn't comprehend this rhyme in it's entirety/ the average person don't got the intelligence to know a dope rhyme/ so you gotta retard your lyrics for these people from time to time/ in order to draw 'em in, then sneak up on 'em with the intellect/ get 'em on the right track to where the two sides intersect/ then interject the dopest shit you possible can/ then right before your eyes appears a real hip-hop fan

Name: Mystic
From: La Jolla
E-Mail:
November 09, 1998 at 23:40:34 (EST)

You should invest in my CD's like a Wall Street Broker/
Think of me as an enemy like Batman to Joker/
I control your dogs like with leashes and chokers/
And your lady came to me, I didn't provoke her/
Castro/
Understand you have no rap flow/
Apparently you don't understand that though/
I personify rhythm like Cannonball Adderly/
But I won't get into all that self-flattery/
Just get out the way of my lyrical battery/
Just cause I beat you, please don't be mad at me.

Name: Dee Phunk
From: Strong Island, NY (the return of...)
E-Mail: deephunk
November 09, 1998 at 11:02:34 (EST)

It's quite risky to attempt to dis me / Leavin' niggaz eyes misty / Specifically trippin' see / You shifty / Leavin' you dismayed that I made it / Elated / Like pages, all emcees gettin' ripped like they perforated / First one out the stable / Ready, willing and able / Catchin' wreck from Internet sets to lunchroom tables / If you don't feel me, just watch me / But don't copy / The difference between you and me like Old Navy to Versace / Flowin' like air / Step? Don't dare if you ain't prepared / Dee equals emcees scared / Reitterating the point but you're constantly missin it' / Wanna battle but can't get your mom to sign the permission slip / You wanna test me but you still fail / Delivery like next day mail / Still wouldn't feel you if you wrote your rhymes in braille / The secrets are leakin' as I'm verbally bombin' ya / Catch ya sleepin' / Get hit with a dosage of permanent insomnia

Name: Joe Haber
From: Portland, OR
E-Mail: jojohaber
November 07, 1998 at 23:29:26 (EST)

I gets down like a pessimistic b-boy in an elevator/
Got more gems besides that, but I'm a tell ya later/
Emcees be pussy like female feline genital/
So I liposuct their phat and drain their spine chemicals/
Speaking of phat, in battle, my clouts very/
When I bust like Ben Stiller in Something About Mary/
I doubt Barry could come deeper, if White was digging out Halle/
And if I was stompin down in Compton, the state'd be named LyriCali/
Nearing alleys in the dark, I see emcees duck like Mallards/
Speaking fowl words, but all they spit is the seeds of sunflowers/
I run cowards to the underworld and push them off of Hell's Ridge/
Smash body to ash, put their soul on ice like Eldridge/
See, thats how kick it, like Chun Li with funky breath/
So George's who get curious can die a monkey's death/

Joe Haber, the emcee with mo flavor, wielding the gold saber...

Name: Midnight*(TheSilentAssassin)*
From: the d( etroit )
E-Mail: thesilentone
November 06, 1998 at 13:48:32 (EST)

my lyrics hurt more than getting kicked in the testicals
this exceptional
lyricist bruises the minds of the greatest intelectuals
like a severed credit card your no longer credible
but vunerable to operational lethal material
unbeleivable attacks more harder than smacks from tennis rackets
you'll need more than a wind breaker jacket
to face this cold logic freezing your mind like the artic
you can only watch this
if zeroxed my mind you couldn't cop it
the style thats wilder than hay-wire electronics
with smooth phonics i produce energy on the level of guerilla sex acts
i rip tracks and leave'em seperated like group packs
passing bitch smacks to wack cats who think their hoe-ish style is exact
packed tight are the facts i bring stinging like stabbing with thumb tacks
excluding Jack i'll sex Jill going down the hill and not a drop of water will she spill
on top of her still i distill for her services a dollar bill
with it she can go buy a slurpy and chill

Name: A.K.A.
From: L.I.
E-Mail: street_smartz
November 05, 1998 at 16:40:57 (EST)

the escalation/ of the increased population/ throughout the entire nation/ will set apart my abreveations/ through the notations/ to see the spectulation/ of this personification/ leading to the deterioation/ of the false minded/ crimal sided/ individual riders/ who dare to test/ this philosophical/ geographical/ abstract/ individual/ architect/ giving respect/ to all who deserve for passing the test/ as i smoke this cest/ and write my own text/ others are bugging cause of my modified techs/ which ain't visable to the next best/ even if it meant battling on the set/ others can't catch/ this deep rooted dialect/ which stems from the best/ to educate the rest/ like a professor/ stressing the importance of his profession/ through history of text books and inventions/ to conquer the young and restless souls of adolescents/ through this rap depression/ microphone holders want to clone each lesson/ but i seek my own route to success/ by inhailing cest/ and coming up with my own lyrical test.

Name: A.K.A.
From: L.I.
E-Mail: street_smartz
November 05, 1998 at 09:14:37 (EST)

daily operations/ stem from collaboration/ my goal/ my ambition/ to spit infinite lyrical amunition/ toward any fasle challenger/ mc/ who wishes to step and battle me/ visually or spiritually/ i break cats down to the apidemy/ like a disease/ breaking down the human body in it's entity/ causing fatal side effects in micatastrophies/ so realize through my own eyes/ to deep to viualize/ steming from the hymotize/ acts from other guys/ brainwashing you to tell a lie/ see it in my eyes/ i'm on this metal high/ trying to acquire this desire/ to interrupt all the knowledge like a scholar/ and never fall victim to a liar/ only searching for the higher/ education/ to make it seem like an elation/ or elevation/ of the past representation/ moving on to my final destination/ in life to me theres no limitations/ only set and draw backs/ hurdling over obstacles for feedback/ but can't count on anyone to achieve that/ strictly out for dolo/ not impressed by polo/ or even if you got doe/ just show me what you foe.

Name: Mystic
From:
E-Mail:
November 04, 1998 at 15:28:32 (EST)

Just A Casual Killer in Normal' 'Everyday Malcontent/
Wondering what the fuck happened & where his boy Malcolm went/
The demons in his dreams never cease to relent/
He ties the girl up & proceeds to circumvent/
Contemplating his next move with careful premeditation/
Never made it past desegregation/
An unfortunate fellow, frozen in time/
But go back up & check the first line/
The letters-they're just an acronym for jackin' 'em/
The verbal styles, no I ain't lackin' 'em/
Gats, there's no sense in packin' 'em/
Stackin' 'em chips when you really should be passin' 'em/
You're harrassin' 'em women when I am mackin' 'em/
attractin' 'em - other M.C.'s, I'll flatten 'em/
Never stop rhyming till I go platinum/
Evil social forces, I'll never stop combattin' 'em/
But...the story proceeds/
Malcolm's laying low in the weeds/
The killers gettin' frantic, doesn't know his friends antics/
As a child he was versed in the study of semantics/
So he knows, Malcolm ain't coming back/
But his lack of suspicion leaves himfor attack/
Malcolm jumps, the killer can't believe his friend tricked him/
Now he's the one tied up with the victim/
Malcolm smiles, lights up a cigarette/
Calmly strolls over to the girl's Corvette/
up the trunk, takes out the suitcase/
Leaves the two there to die-takes off without a trace...

Name: Psyclone
From: Marysville, WA
E-Mail: psyclon
November 03, 1998 at 10:44:36 (EST)

with these rhymes
I'm givin you somethin extra
like big tippers
fact is, I'd still be lacin y'all
if I was wearin slippers
I never get stuck like zippers
I'm flowin smoother than a river
a sliver of my talent shuts you up
and makes you shiver
I deliver rhyme gifts
that lifts your mental capacity
I rip mics enthusiastically
do you have the audacity?
to engage in verbal war
I explore the roughest terrain
my life's on track like trains
I attack and nothin remains
the blade cuts
I flick away rappaz like cigarette butts
applyin pressure like tournicate
or tournament winning putts
the door shuts your locked in
and claustrophobia sets in
but relax kid it's cool
my style's fresher than certs with retsin
I gets in your mind
you stop to think now your behind
in tightly wound mental bind
so feel me like your blind
all your rhymes'll go stale
when it gets tough your ass'll bail
your frail structure will crumble
as I assail with verbal hail
the size of basketballs
every word you type
your hip-hop casket casket calls
your brain stalls like breaker
I'm pourin it on like when rain falls
beat while your down
upon the ground beggin mercy

Name: Maestro Cipher a.k.a. the magnus
From: THE D (ALWAYS)
E-Mail: maestro27
October 31, 1998 at 19:23:05 (EST)

From my intro to outro
I spit ill flowz
here I come here I go
you better lay low
or else you'll have to face the rhyming arithmetic
post-apocalyptic shit
wicked shit
most certain to get addicted shit
lyrical perverted shit
never heard of shit
ill skillz? My very name defines it
A real time 3D kind of mc
equipped with military artillery
I'll have you begging for forgiveness like Bill does Hillary
literally
I abuse thee verbally
something's wrong with ya brain, I'll begin the surgery
numerically
I eat mc's like flesh eating diseases
Maestro's coming to town you better pray to jesus
It's halloween night
I turn skeletons into mc's and jack O' laterns into mics
questioning my skillz it's ludicrous
like saying LL is better Canibus
reminisce the hard-core facts
Cipher's undefeated like check the stats
who's next at bat
so I can finish him like mortal kombat
I'm rated X
for extremely ill
make like slurpees at 7 eleven and chill
kick ya feet up and enjoy the show
brought to you by the infamous Maestro
lyrical conductor/bad motherfucker
from east to west
I stand out like pamela lee's chest
So pump up ya stereo.....play the video
I'll surprise you like prizes inside cereal
My mind states is concrete like the street
Maestro's struck again
trick or treat
........motherfuckerz

Name: NIGGAMORTIS/ILLITERATURE
From: BOSTON
E-Mail: BIGCEL42 or SLEAKONE @ aol.com
October 30, 1998 at 18:38:11 (EST)

OFF the HEAD/
BOSTON BREAD/
drop the SETS/
to stop the FEDS/
blow SPOTS INSTEAD/
DOT the RED/
CAUGHT EM/
SPOT EM and GOT EM/
watch him fall like AUTUM/
blocks is HOTTER than HARLEM/
and SPANISH RICE/
this man is NICE/
use mic DEVICE to take ADVANTAGE of your WIFE/
extraordinary ADVANTAGE IS TWICE/
as capable as THE PRICE/
when it's RIGHT/
it's in the SITE/
play russian roullette-----come SPIN THIS MIC/
you in this RIGHT?/
to me it's NOT A GAME/
this shit as HOT AS FLAME/
embarras niggas like when i call and FORGOT your DAUGHTERS NAME/
the OUTSPOKEN/
out for VOTES to WIN/
creep through theNG/
nigga when you battle me you aint SUPOSED TO WIN/

dont take it personal when u lose......you silly NEGRO'S

Name: Maestro Cipher
From: D
E-Mail: maestro27
October 29, 1998 at 13:46:55 (EST)

Commanding regiments
rhymes breaking off like sediments
hip hop's the government
and I'm the president
vote no on proposal wackness
Malgerdon you already know you can't combat this
I'm far beyond
you tiny peons
I rhyme for eons
and generations
assassinations
verball interrogation
when it all boils down, Maestro's one you'll be facing......you bitch
Malgerdon's on my dick like jock itch
I knocked his ass off my shit
now his the artist formally known as prince
you fucking vagabond
I should have known you were wack with a name like Malgerdon
this battle is official over
so stop trying to get loud
your leader already throw in the towel
so give up
your wackness spit up
like a scrub trying out for the hoop squad you've been cut

Name: MAESTRO CIPHER THE ECLISIS
From: THE D
E-Mail: maestro27
October 28, 1998 at 18:24:36 (EST)

My flows are original
like KFC recipes
you better write in capital letters when your addressing me
my skillz are ill
like hospital patients
except much worst
A human dies every 2 seconds in each verse
Crashing like hard rain
fastet than bullet trains
my mind's a highway with infinite lanes
not even the smartest scientist can disect my brain
A born genius
born with a brain in the mind and my penis
wiping out entire species
like viral diseases
a different affect for every season
My shit goes together like hell and demons
rhyme and reason
taitor and treason
vagina and semen
Damon and Keenan
oxygen and breathing
just a sample of mastery
you wack cats can't handle me
Maestro Cipher stands for M.C.
and micatasrophe
and as for the Eclisis
that's the unknown factor of my skillz
I secret that'll never be revealed
like mob bosses in interrogation like lips are sealed

Name: CastrO
From: TDOT CanaWhat
E-Mail: dmxx
October 27, 1998 at 20:34:18 (EST)

Ayo i be steady Castrating while you waq type battling niggaz be mastabating/yo you and your click don't need to be debating yall know Castro controls da mic slow/ima brake knees and elbows/my rhyme styles iz concentrated like orange juice/so ima coagulate rap arteries and let loose rhyme castasrophys/yall can ask jaru he'll tell a nigga he couldn't damage me/i got flow stamina so i rap for dayz/and yall niggaz can't keep up if yall had viagra/rhymes run deep like the waters of niagra/ask tony he'll tell you i got da eye of da tiga/ya'll niggaz iz dick ryders so get off dis/get common to record dis so yall niggaz can blast this/Castro flips tracks like circus acrabats/when in combat niggaz show up with gats and basball bats just to battle me/yall niggaz lack mic control plus mic skills/every time I grab a mic a thousand and one mcees get killed by lyrical overdose/ I impreganate da world wit verbal intercourse/ so nine months from know ma seed will be blowiing up da spot like nitro glicerin /iz yall niggaz listening?

talk to me ?CastrO?

Name: Q
From: Oakland
E-Mail: thahonorable
October 27, 1998 at 09:59:53 (EST)

Not-an-attack-brotha-justa-friendly-battle:

You couldn't explode if I attached dynamite to you arm/And soaked you in gum powder and liquid neupon/Claimin you bionic/Try Mr. DECEPTican/Couldn't spit healing psalms if you swallowed some lip balm/ This some shit huh?/ I take your camera and crush it/ Shit on your BARS freestylin, drinkin a Nantucket/ Leave you as confused as Tiger/ Shine brighter than your silver surf/You child's play like nerf fakin than astro-terf/You funny like Eddie Murph eghhheeheeehe/ why PAY attention to spittin written when I can whip ass FREE?

Name: mYsTiC
From: Douglas Hall 3312
E-Mail:
October 26, 1998 at 15:36:14 (EST)

For all I care, stick to your primitive dwellings/
Whats in store for the future, there ain't no telling/
Keep up that gang-banging and your dope selling/
But I'm on some historical shit, like Magellan/
Take the world in your palm and circumnavigate/
I got goals: Let me elaborate/
Determined not to let my lyrics contaminate/
Put 'em on your wall with a thick coat of laminate/
Its my declaration to a nation of stagnation/
Divine creation regardless of interpretation/
We deadlocked under a political system/
Of retaliation cause the other party dissed 'em/
An anamoly in the economy--nobody noticed/
We busy meeting quotas/
And covering the next fucking scandal/
No wonder I can't get a handle.../
Hold a up a candle for the latest victim/
Didn't like his lifestyle, so they sticked him/
Evict him, from his body on earth/
Sent to a better place for a rebirth/
You gotta believe just to keep your head on straight/
But I'm also afraid its only gonna escalate/

Name: XXX
From: Strong Island
E-Mail: ms104
October 26, 1998 at 01:45:22 (EST)

"Skip-the-introduction", proceed-to-the-main-function/ your-natural-inclination-is-panic-at-this-junction/ I'm-a-nigga-from-the-Commmons, but-I'm-no-common-nigga/ try-not-to-trigger-violence-though-I-tote-a-violent-trigger/ You-might-figure, what's-the-means-of-destruction/ it's-obvious-my-first-function/ dead-niggas-pumpin-corruption/ It's-evident-what-is-the-task-at-hand/ you're-hesitant, incompetant, unable-to-understand/ my-level-unattainable-original-man/ your-purpose, expainable, not-part-of-the-plan/ paragraph-after-paragraph, MC's-feel-the-aftermath/ of-all-the-casualties-slain on-XXX's-warpath/ microphone-wrecker on-a-lyrical-reign-of-terror/ leavin-all-ties-severed, you're-bruised-battered-and-dismembered/ Every-village-in-pillage, your-whole-army-surrenders/ senseless-beatings-leave-your-mental-state 'Gone-til-November'/ I-remember-a-time, when-MC's-knew-how-to-rhyme/ now-they're-guilty-as-sin, with-perjury-as-their-crime/ but-soon-they'll-have-run-out-of-time, and-Judgement-Day-will-come/ they'll-have-run-out-of-lines, and-act-the-Prodigal-Son/ but-you-won't-be-forgiven, by-the-father-of-rap/ it's-obvious-you've-lost-vision, you-can't-see-where-it's-at/ niggas-is-takin-it-back, to-the-days-it-was-fun/ thanks-to-niggas-like-Pun, who'll-show-you-how-the-fuck-it's-done// The-epilogue-to-the-saga, proves-it-wasn't-worth-all-the-drama/ death-with-dishonor, leavin-your-soul-in-bad-Karma/ I'm-the-oasis, in-the-desert-called-the-rap-game/ the-rest-are-faceless, get-laid-to-rest-and-put-to-shame/ It-starts-to-register, from-the-nodes-to-the-membrane/ You're-a-noncompetitor, can't-survive-or-maintain/
I'm the inevitable, nonconceptual, incredible, unattainable, multi-dimensional, inexplicable, super lyrical, unpredictable, metaphysical, somewhat mystical modern miracle

Name: DstraughtThoughts aka JoeKamel
From: HydePark, Chi, iLLaNoYZe
E-Mail: midwaymonsta
October 25, 1998 at 02:38:56 (EST)

off the richtor rhyme riddler//
pierce ya with the scripture of Hitler//
c4 mixture, closed casket framed picture//
ya only keep-sake, i keep hate//
in the form of a tre-8 rebate//
givin ya something extra for ya troubles//
flashin muzzle, plasma puddle//
rebuttals fragment ya bubble pelle//
assasinate ya character over medleys//
stacatto gunshots, lace ya frame head to belly//
touchin artery with artistry//
perfect murder anatomy policy//
aquittal prophesy//
drastic tactics, tragedy sprayed automatic//
addicted to habits that leave ya hapless//
tossin axes and hatchets, to give ya blood greater access//
to pavement, the placement of my statements//
leave ya spirit lying adjacent to ya vacant//
cadaver, splatter ya grey matter//
have ya ashes scattered, and praise gathered//
my chatter's well-lathered and spit acid like full bladders//
paralyzing ya speech//
twistin geeks, bogard the globe from the meek//
they ain't inheiritin shit but bleak//
futures, gettin tutored in the ways of the kamasutra//
How To Get Fucked 101, "Anal Manuevers"......

Name: Midnight*(TheSilentAssassin)*
From: Detroit
E-Mail: thesilentone3
October 23, 1998 at 10:10:04 (EDT)

no matter how many revisions you make to your lyrical transcripts
the main point hits..it cant match my melodics
technical robotics dont come close in advancement to my verbal enhancments
call me a bandit cause i steal the soul of the newly found fan who read my scroll
fifty years from now some will condsider encasing my works in gold
step up to me straight and like a chair you will fold
doubled over i stuff ya in a package you've been sold
you bring wooden bats to the war i come with aluminum 2x4's
splintering your shit in your face making ya eyes sore
your like the before and after picture on weight loss commercials
used to be phat now ya skills are worthless
on my balls like shockwave was to megatron
scared to battle you run leaving letters like dear john
i remain everlasting from here on
tryin to match me is like inspecta gadget tryin to think with james bond
Midnight a son of the latenight quite tight
i excite on a level more exposive than dynomite
im immune to parasite rappers even when they bite
loaded with confidence and supreme might
so much might i could make lefts for days and still be the right choice to lead the fight

Name: Maestro Cipher the Eclisis
From: THE D
E-Mail: maestro27
October 22, 1998 at 15:25:53 (EDT)

It's coming
like the end of the millennium
my mic's top of the line on the back it says pentium
A simile slayer slash eradicator
teaming up with all kinds of demonz and assassinatorz
I come and go
like now you see me now you don't
I leave death as a footnote
that says murder she wrote
and that's the truth
here's my last opponents mic
here's the proof
With telepathy
I compose this symphony
phantom of the mc-e-e
The Cipher's the harbinger of lyrics
bringing death to the living and giving the dead back their spirits
my rhymes are nice
I'ma about to break through like Fat Joe on thin ice
I kick down studios
and electrify wit beats
get ready to pay attention like class take your seats
some shits about to go down like rival gangs coming all packing hit

To Be continued

Name: MOST HIGH
From: UNDAGROUND
E-Mail:
October 21, 1998 at 19:05:17 (EDT)

TO MYSTIC...

I GOT MY TARGET ON LOCK-PRESS THE RED BUTTON/ EXPLODE ON MC'S THAT BE STUTTERING/ LIKE "I-I-I'M SORRY-SORRY FOR THE PROBLEMZ I'VE CAUSED/ I TRIED TO BE MAGICAL BUT I WASN'T DOWN FOR THE CAUSE"/ THEN I STOP AND PAUSE-OBSERVING THIS CAT THAT JUST DISSED ME/ I KNOW YOU TRIED TO-BUT BITCH YOU MISSED ME!!!/ I PUT MY RAPS IN CAPS TO GET YA'LL ATTENTION/ HOW MANY TIMEZ DID YOU VOTE FOR YOURSELF-IT'Z BASIC COMPREHENSION/ EMBARRASSED BY THE FACT THAT YOU'RE WACK AND YOU KNOW IT/ SHOOK FROM MY STEEZ BUT AFRAID TO SHOW IT/ SEE, 2 IS A CROWD SO GET THE HELL OUTTA MICATASTROPHE/ BEFORE I UNLEASH THESE INNER DEMONZ THAT SEEM TO INVADE ME/ I'M JUST AN INTELECUAL THAT BELIEVES IN TRUE HIP HOP/ BUT WHEN YOU DISS FOR NO REASON-I HEAR "CLICK,CLICK,POP"/ NOW THAT I'M ALMOST DONE-MAY I ADVISE YOU/ THIS WAS A FREESTYLE-I WOULDN'T WASTE WRITTENS ON YOU/ SO NEXT TIME YOU WANNA DISS ME TO GET A SPOT ON THE SCROLL/ WIPE THE SWEAT OFF YOUR BROW AND TAKE IT TO THE STREETZ-WATCH MY REP GROW/ YOU'RE FAKE AND UNPOLITICAL/ ANALYTICAL-PEEP MY PHySICAL/ MOST HIGH STAY INFINITE AND RIP SHOWZ-NEVA MYSTICal....

Name: Mystic
From: San Diego
E-Mail:
October 20, 1998 at 17:53:10 (EDT)

We've been eclectically selected and respected for our minds/
Like Einstein/
There's a fine line/
Between coming of age and coming of knowledge/
The supposedly smart ones head off to college/
But within this industry I see real intelligence/
Sending words to the streets with superior relevance/
Its a responsibility planted in all of us/
To take our gift and fill other's hollowness/
Why waste time cussin' and dissin'/
When its detrimental to those who are listenin'?/
There's one thing plain and simple that I'm wishin'/
That we'll get off our asses and fullfill our mission.

Just a vision.......

Name: Mystic
From: UCSD
E-Mail:
October 19, 1998 at 22:58:10 (EDT)

What?
Take your computer off caps lock/
Take your mind off war talk/
All I see is a lot of misspellings/
Frankly, it just wasn't compelling/
Me? As a M.C. I'm certified?
But the laws of lyricism I don't abide/
Sit you in a chair, make sure your hands are tied/
Prepare to die, like the Princess Bride/
You beg for forgiveness, but I denied/
"Somebody please help me!" is what you cried/
I could tell by your eyes that you're petrified/
I go about my business with honor and pride/
For a split second, our glances collide/
Looking at me, as if you already died/
But my mission, son, is not to kill you/
Rather let my words inspire and thrill you/
Let the fear of losing seep in and fill you/
I brought my lyrics, the question is: when will you?!?

Name: TONY COSTA
From: 121 --- 4 Seasons
E-Mail: mr_costa
October 17, 1998 at 16:39:19 (EDT)

Time for Tony Costa ...
My styles is so nice
You fuck dimes, I fuck quarters
I'm raising the price
Once or twice
I may have failed to battle and bust back
But my style is like the Tower of Babble
How the fuck you gonna contruct that?
My lyrics drop like ... KABOOM
Nigga give me room
I'm the reason why it took Christ
Three days to leave the tomb
Cause we was rapping...
Attacking
It was so sweet
Busted lines about eternity while
Saint Peter made the beat
You better recognize and understand it
I'm so hot I got the Sun
Submiting applications to be a planet
Confuse your mind and body from the start
I'll have your heart sucking in blood
And your lungs trying to fart
I'll kill MC's for no real reason
It's Tony Costa
Founding member of the 4 seasons

Name: Mystic
From:
E-Mail: nkosteln
October 16, 1998 at 00:04:55 (EDT)

In front of the monitor I meditate/
You don't seem to get it so I guess I'll just set it straight/
My lyrics I'll have to reiterate/
Other M.C.'s I'll have to obliterate/
This ain't no high-tech fiberoptics/
If you can't compete just drop it/
Layin' down a rhyme-you know you can't top it/
I'll spill your guts on the floor and make you mop it/
Stop it-your pitiful lyrics make me nauseous/
Before you post your shit be cautious/
Or you're liable to get knocked again/
You just a boy in a world full of men.

Name: Praxis of Left Field
From: Broadcasting from Japan...for now
E-Mail: jonekr00
October 15, 1998 at 00:14:56 (EDT)

My master action has class to blast ya faction/I give just a fraction of all the skills i'm packin/You foul so quit hackin'/ flavor ya ear like I was Mack and/You betsta be backin' up son when I'm blastin' my raps/Out the back of my knapsack/ you and your whole crew will get ransacked/For points and the Ascap i keep blocks and stadiums jampacked/With versatile raps that identical twins couldn't match/You need to be patchin' ya wounds as a matter of fact/You shouldn't attack/Make ninja stars out of the wax/You couldn't combat if I gave you shields and a battle axe/I'm battlin' cats who claim they got the battlin' acts/Prefer DJ's to dats with styles that sex couldn't wax/Shit is phat, what you expect when you fuckin' with Prax.

Left Field for Real

Name: Q The Intense Nemesis
From: Oakland, Ca.
E-Mail: thahonorable
October 14, 1998 at 09:30:54 (EDT)

I spit
Some of the hottest diabolic street logic
Part learned from college
Part learned from livin impoverished
Part learned from studying the knowledge
Of ancient African Scholars
The rest I attribute to knowin
Exactly who the GOD is
To state it modest
My lyrics could probably earn a profit
But to be honest
One verse is worth a spot in the stock market/With each share traded
At a hunned apiece/And in a week
The net value will be sure to increase
Causing a economic crisis
And the spread of �hypnitis�
When one of the nicest writers
Forms �Q Enterprises.�
I got the midas/So if I touched it it�s scorched/Owning the court
Runnin game like I invented the sport
Take contenders of all sorts
EXPOPT �em like CAR-GO/
Brotha you MOON-DUST I�m highly decorative MARBLE
Niggas make me laugh louder than Ricky Ricardo
TRADING death threats, gone force me to draft an EMBARGO
A written restriction/That prohibits rap diction/That exhibit ignorance and flagrant mind indolence
I�m guilty of being nice
Try and proove my innocence
And I�ll spit chants
That BREAK the whole judiciary BRANCH
You rookies still in TRAINING CAMP
I�m route to win the HIESMEN
While you exercisin/ Fantasizin
About the art of combinin
Thought in your ryhmin/Start wit the timin
Cough up a diamond and show the heart of lion...

Name: Midnight*(TheSilentAssassin)*
From: the d
E-Mail: thesilentone3
October 13, 1998 at 09:53:41 (EDT)

i produce real tracks that'll have train engineers de-railed
to get at my logic is hard ask the cats who diss me why they failed
and why they spit balls of gas like jupitor
while i come superior with haley's comet type criteria
the liquidation from my rhymes leaves h20 in second place
just ask the wet emcees i've flushed without haste
unbelievable is my pace
im in a tight phase like magnetic shoe strings my verses stay laced
some one asked me for a light, i spit a rhyme his cigar was blazed
he said that was fantastic it should a guinesses book of records topic
elastic, i stretch verbs all the way back to the past tense
i play the role of a psychiotrist and brain wash wack emcees of all the nonsense
a survivor to the fullest i use the thought process as bullets
the last cat i battled had a nine in his brain but couldn't pull it
straight nuetralized, mental was stripped by the released stress i analized
SinisterSilent, the master of sneaking up taking by surprise
rolling with a partner called microphone specialized in handicapping domes
watch your section because the Assassin romes, playin the melody from my nomadic tunes

Name: ILLITERATURE--NIGGAMORTIS
From: FOUNDATION HEAD
E-Mail: BIGCEL42 or SLEAKONE@ aol.com
October 12, 1998 at 17:23:35 (EDT)

keystyle---KEYboard FREEstyle

QUESTION/
when will my PRESENCE/
be BLESSED IN/
the hall of fame SECTION/
SURVIVORS SCROLL REPRESENTING/
long OVERDUE/
the scroll is SUPPOSED to MOVE EVERY 2/
months--ANDTO/
these words unspoken TRUE/
the TRUTH to THIS/
im ready to see some NEW SHIT/
those that CONTROL the SCROLL they need to DO THIS/
IMPROVEMENT/
start a new hall so we can VIEW IT/
in MUSIC/
everything is love JUST LIKE THE MOVEMENT/

(peace to A TRIBE CALLED QUEST--10 YRS of PURE HIP HOP)

Name: ILLITERATURE (yall know me as NIGGAMORTIS)
From: BOSTON,MASS
E-Mail: BIGCEL42 or SLEAKONE@ aol.com
October 11, 1998 at 19:10:31 (EDT)

naked clucthing a BIBLE/
false IDOLS
make it VIABLE/
to find all my beliefs UNRELIABLE/
still i BELIEVE/
tell my niggas to CHILL WITH THE WEED/
some are STILL WITH THE SPEED/
i feel for the NEED/
for REAL MC'S/

niggas concerned with DRUGS/
acting like THUGS/
catching the SLUGS/
MATCHING/
FASHION with LUGS/
this rapshit GROWS from my FLESH/
FLOW with the BEST/
fuck CLOTHES-- RIP the GUESS/
CONNECT and SPIT the BEST/
life is MERLY a TEST/
in this rapshit im CLEARLY the BEST/
if yall cant NEAR ME THAN STEP/

off the dome top---KEYSTYLE

Name: Dj Scooter
From: Chicago
E-Mail: sziebell
October 10, 1998 at 12:59:14 (EDT)

fuck it/you can suck it/cause i know ya faggot ass tucks it/i be fallin up like bep/i be bring phat shit like bdp/i be me/cause rap is an art/coming straight from the heart/my thoughts pick you apart/so dont even start/dissin me/cause me you cant be/i go rah rah rah like busta bust/
the trust is a must/or tust is what you will be breathing/the meaning, of rap is beyond you/through, the 3rd eye ya never look/ya took, that style and and made it wack/look back, at what you have done/its fun, watch you make shit up/drink my cup, its full of hip hop/so stop,what ya doing and bring it real/ thats the deal

Name: Mystic
From: La Jolla
E-Mail: nkosteln
October 09, 1998 at 01:13:41 (EDT)

a lesson in history........

Lyrical Darwinism-The Theory of Evolution/
Step into the next century or face your execution/
1979 is when the biting started/
When 3 M.C.s were said to be the first commercial artists/
For 14 1/2 minutes they spit verses that weren't theirs/
Taken from the streets of New York, but no one seemed to care/
Until the mid 80's, most of the beats you bumped in your trunk/
Were stolen from 70's jazz, r&b, and funk/
Then came the Golden Age- when rappers preached philosophy/
And if only for an instant, hip-hop was imposter-free/
As the 90's settled in, we were back to our old ways/
We had it right, but what did we do? Revert to an old phase/
When will it stop? I pray to myself the answer isn't never/
Cause by 2010 Puffy will have remade every pop song ever/
Can't rappers see the key to respect is only creativity/
But lack of originality only leads to negativity/
Bad publicity, etc. make our music dissolve/
So follow Lyrical Darwinism and make our music evolve.

Name: Playtime
From: St louis
E-Mail:
October 08, 1998 at 16:48:17 (EDT)

This is the Playtime, not Deion the Primetime, cause I keep my shit for real in every rhyme/every spit lyric comes from the heart, so real hip-hoppers now this art/I speak freely cause thats how the world is, also speak positive to look out for the kids/family representation is my topic, so this demon fool can just squash it/your lyrics are wack and so is your style, all your lyrics bring is a great big smile/ cause they don�t make any sense to what you bring, all negativity is what you sing/a positive mind state is the power to the game, talkin about guns and drugs brings you no fame/sayin fooney shit about my nigga, pretendin your hard infront of your niggaz/just be yourself man and don�t try to front, squash the beef and throw down the blunt/so if you listened along and understood the meaning, then you can thank me for the demon defeating. Keep it real!

Name: D.O.G
From: T.O.
E-Mail: dgibson
October 07, 1998 at 22:39:56 (EDT)

As soon as I grab mics, crews get served
Comp can�t hack it, similar to computer nerds
I grab mics millitant
Stay in the cut and be killin it
B4 and after pictures�ll show you bear no
resemblesence
So rappers get timid, even b4 kick it
The lyrical attack similar to Reggie
White on the line of scrimmage
I attack relentless
5-0 seizin my mic as evidence
To be investigated by forensics
Given listeners the �Ultimate Experience�
like Jimi Hendrix,
To the rap society Ole D.O.G. is still a menace
You keep sayin ya team is tough, but I aint fearin ya
Ya fan base is equal to the population of Siberia!
An I�ma reign superior, so call a coronor
You might be from this country but to mics you a foreigner
I�m warninin ya, now I�m start war witch ya
Trap you into an inescapeable coridor
That goes for any man who test us
I bring shame to you, ya family and your ancient ancestors
I got goals like Paul Kariya to blow acoustics in speakers
The only way you aint feelin me is you under anastheza

Name: NIGGAMORTIS newly known as.. ILLITERATURE
From: BOSTON....
E-Mail: bigcel42 or SLEAKONE
October 06, 1998 at 20:11:54 (EDT)

its impossible for you to score a 2nd ROUND KNOCKOUT/
when i put you DOWN in the 1st ROUND/
the ref counted the CLOCKOUT/
the 2nd time i put down the raw rhyme CONTORTIST/
you BITE MINE/
that SHITS CRIME/
got your MIND DISTORTED/
EXPLORE THIS/
rhyme style given by NIGGAMORTIS/
spit MORE HITS/
than a nigga beaten with 4 FISTS/
you FORGE THIS/
your shit you need to FORFIT/
i bring your wackness to the SURFACE/
with more indelible flows than CO FLOW RIPS/
MYSTIC or C-KOW/
you WEAK then---your WEEK NOW/
dont get your shit TWISTED---peep the master of " KEYSTYLE"/

KEYSTYLE---a new form of freestyle....

Name: MIDNIGHT*(THESILENTASSASSIN)*
From: THE D
E-Mail: THESILENTONE
October 05, 1998 at 23:35:10 (EDT)

sound the horns the elite fleet of Midnight has come to scorn
for you relatives will mourn
should have known better you were warned since you was first born
the first message was when the doctor slapped your ass
fortolled your future of sporting broken arms and leg cast's
results from a battle with a late night cinema cast
leading role played by me a fortress built to last
i slapped you with the mic and like batman you seen a caption that said blast
and like his arch nemises the riddler i fool you with endeavor more clever
dont try to snatch my mic or your hand i will sever
i got so hot when i rock i spit fire like flames out of blow torches
ya girls not a dutchess
i had her in my clutches praising me glory like churches
if you wanna be me i'll gladly tatoo my name on your ass and for a day me you could pass as
before i let it be known your my property to be shown
no names need to be mentioned, through all the battles i stay like a diamond glicened

Name: Maestro Cipher
From: D
E-Mail: maestro27
October 04, 1998 at 21:24:33 (EDT)

Enter the demolitionist
rhyme-industrialist/revolutionist
monarchy's over with don't you know what the consitution is
You say your royalty
but it doesn't make since
I couldn't really give a damn if your a prince
I get straight to the point and I blaze
Yo Malgerdon your rhymes are as weak as seven days
so peep this
the words of the arsonist
I'll have you retired just like Johnny Carson is
HEREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE'S MAESTRO
coming to damage you
I crush mics like Canibus' tattoo
now Who?
The fuck do you think you are
acting hard
but I got you blinking
call me out
what the hell were you thinking
your crew's not shit compared Costa, Midnight, and Tha Demon
Now you got me pissed
time to pull out the ol' hit list
and your at the top
My status is well beyond the cream of the crop
I take away your royalty
kick you in your jaw and have you swear loyalty
to me the better mc
Ain't going nowhere cuz I got a infinite warranty
it comes wit the territory
you done got your self in some trouble
The Maestro attacks and leaves your Kingdom in rubble
you went from being rich
to not having shit
it a split
-50th second of a minute
I have your crew pointing fingers saying Cipher did it
yeah I said it
the only reason you're on the scroll is because I let it
I mistake, which I'll never make again
the die cast bitch
so prepare for ya end

Name: Mystic
From: La Jolla
E-Mail: nkosteln
October 03, 1998 at 22:46:12 (EDT)

Neither of ya could flow/
That's OK though/
Cause I'll slam you like Onyx/
I mastered the language, while you need Hooked On Phonics/
Its ironic/
Like Alanis/
I'm just being honest/
If I'm Michael Jordan, then you only Adonis/
Coming with your unqualified rhetoric/
I'll better it/
You're losin' battles like Confederates/
You don't belong in my vicinity/
Come too close and you'll be seeing stars for infinity/
Wack M.C.'s buggin' me like pestilence/
I bring my testament/
Subsequently cited for scholastic excellence/
Don't even know why I'm putting this time in/
Battling a guy who ain't even rhymin'.

Name: Prince Malgerdon
From: Please nobody get on the other slot
E-Mail: Prince
October 03, 1998 at 21:29:00 (EDT)

I'm breaking dollars, so it can make sense
Yo Maestro prepared to be hit by the prince
you say the arsonist
when I'm the royalist
a real lyricist
that can deliver this
in less than 30 minutes or your money back
I'm only battling you to expose that your wack
I knocked you off track
smacked you like a bitch and kicked you in your nut sac
so what ya gonna do
the great prince has come to skewer you
using my mic as a lance
I advance
wit the enhance
the shadow dance
Prince Malgerdon
the ruler of the mic
despite
whatever you may write
I will smite
you and your whole damn crew
so better quit rhyming
and start drinking mountain dew
cuz you through when you step this
Prince Malgerdon the benevolent

Name: NIGGAMORTIS
From: THE FOUNDATION
E-Mail: BIGCEL42
October 02, 1998 at 18:47:31 (EDT)

aye yo im sick of FOUL CATS/
bark at a pussy nigga MEOWS BACK/
im known to draw a CROWD off what your STYLE LACK/
you sound WACK/
my STYLE gets bitten like candy you FOUND WRAPPED/
C-KOW/
BLACK---can i get my STYLE BACK?/
i know it's FOUND FAT/
i was the 1st to PRONOUNCE CAPS/
ANNOUNCE THAT/
you bit@ got yourMOUTH SLAPPED/
i spit a FOUNTAIN of RAPS/
you got no flow like 1950's FOUNTAINS to BLACKS/
i put you out in the BACK\
recycled niggas get the TRASH BIN/
bleed this rapshit--SCRATCH my SKIN/
im CAPTURING\
niggas TRESPASSING IN/
my rap PASTURE WHEN/
niggas confess my STYLES so NICE,they bugged my MIC and TAPPED my PEN/
silently im SLASHIN MEN/
verbal ASSASIN/
like 2hrs AFTER 10 (pm)\

if u aint pussy get off my dick

Name: Mdnight*(TheSilentAssassin)*
From: Detroit
E-Mail: thesilentone3
October 01, 1998 at 16:18:37 (EDT)

i wear a coat of arma', a parka when i enta' winter wars
through blizzards and storms i supply the lyrical stores
with items of surplus, lyrics by the can shake em' and they will bust
the volumn of the combustion is that powerful every selection
pin point a section and watch heads wait for my goods in anticipation
however there are crooks with bad intentions
the other day someone pulled a mic and tried to take my rhymes by apprehension
i thought to myself...a lyrical jackin'
then dodged the theif's actions pulled my mic ands started rappin
in self defense i murdered the adolesant with no hesitance
a teen kills a teen both hooked cause they were microphone fiends
whatever the means i protect my values at all cost
with lines to toss any employee tryin to upstage the boss
i smog the mind and make em' choke like exhaust
Midnight, Mr.SinisterSilent
i practice mic deprivement to those who aren't using it wisely
to properly represent royaly like a grand-hierarchy
call me a serial killer cause i stalk thee
ones who talk thee bullshit non-stop rapidly
immeadiately i pop-up to vaporize instantly

Name: Tha Demon
From: Tha T, AZ
E-Mail:
September 30, 1998 at 14:20:23 (EDT)

You wanna dis tha Demon? that'z like goin' 2 Hell lookin' 4 ice/You'z a contradiction on-tha-mic like a Muslim prayin' 2 Christ/You think ya nice? pleaze, I laughed-out-loud at ya lyrics/Now-pay-tha price 4 phuckin-wit-this-demonic-voodoo- spirit/Do-you-hear-it? tha screamz of death-callin-ya-namez/Clawz-of-tha-Devil draggin-you-down-2-rest-in-eternal flamez/Wanna-play-lyrical-wargamez, pressin-attack-buttonz-across-tha-Net/You betta hit delete,edit,reset,and then disconnect/Cuz-I-got-RESPECT-tattooed across-my-stomach/And yall choze 2 DISrespect by comin' wit some dumb shit/Some ol' scum shit, ya-wanna-bust-me wit-mom-jokez?/SNAP, bitch, ya-mom-lickz clitz-4-linez-of-coke/I-ain't-no-joke, if we-wuz-toe-2-toe,you'd-get-jacked-quick/Slap-you-so-hard,you'd-fall-backwardz-like geriatrics/Smack-tha-shit-out-of-you,spit- on-you,then hit-you-wit-a-freestyle/Slug- you,drug-you,then drag-you-naked-down-tha- Nile/Feed-you-2-a-Crocodile,gut it,then cut-off-it'z-skin/Imagine tha bootz I'd make,half bitch-half reptilian/One-fourth Sicilian,but this half-breed'z-culture-iz- Hip-Hop/Tha-only-thing-more-sacred-iz-watchin Non-Sequiter-get-rocked-non-stop/Like watchin-a-cop-drop,I-get-a-rush-battling bitchez-that-dissed-me/When-I'm-pissed-off my-creative-juicez-flow-like-tha-blood down-in-Dixie/But-ya-missed-me,your-verbal shotz-didn't-even-penetrate-my-mind/Cuz Praxis-needz-2-practice-how-2-bless-a-dope rhyme/You-from-Japan? figurez,you-catz will-never-be/Black,you'd-probly-kill-a Black-man-2-show-how-Black-yall- wanna-be/Ya-wanna-double-team me? how 'bout I make it 4-on-2/Get-my-boyz:Midnight,Maestro,and Costa-2-help-me-bomb-on-you/How-dare-you dis-an-MC-who-uzed-2-give-propz-2-you/Now you must face tha wrath of an unbeatable, undefeated crew/I liked how you dissed Scooter, but I ain't on tha same track/Cuz tha only thing that'z blasphemy iz callin me wack/When yall lack tha skillz, 4 realz, don't even front/I crack homerunz like Maguire, so stand in Left Field all you want...

Name: MAESTRO CIPHER the professionist
From: Detroit
E-Mail: maestro27
September 30, 1998 at 10:57:23 (EDT)

Maestro Cipher back online
decapitating heads and shattering spines
the manifestation
of devastation
has awakened
prepare for the revolution
in high resolution
party goer
home run hitting flowa
like Sammy Sosa
Hitting the lyric shits at full swing
dodging aerial attacks and clipping angel's wings
Shining wit the solar flare
fucking wit me is like breathing toxic air
in ya atmosphere
it's time to bomb like arab terrorist
I'm the rhyme supremacist
coming to ravage this
relish this
I thought from the professionist
Bringing more freestyles
than water down the nile
bringing forth tidal waves to crash pyramids
I'll deal with mics, cuz trix are for kids

Name: MAESTRO CIPHER
From: THE D
E-Mail: maestro27
September 29, 1998 at 22:06:30 (EDT)

Yo I'm rip ignorance
wit my intellegence
now check this
I'm leaving marks wit claws
leaving marks of pain
like shit stains in deebo's drawz
I stay on point
like dressing sharp
I'm killing more Kenny's than in the town south park
using my deadly combo
which I use to lay the smack down on D-LO
No your damn role and shut your mouth
or I'll have burning like crosses in the deep south
I'm holding the "people's mic"
then grab a pen tight
and start to write
from day to night
getting ready for battle
observe slowly as a split you like an atom
Playing cinemas
foot in your ass like enemas
is ya delima
I make the ground tremble as you quiver
and cower
before me
the lyrically mc of mastery
so you better close your windows and look your doors
cuz I'll blow you over like hurriance georges

Name: Q (The Intense Nemesis)
From: Oakland, Cali.
E-Mail: thahonorable
September 29, 1998 at 12:27:40 (EDT)

edited version:

My ex-mistress/Caught me swimmin wit otha fishes/From a far distance/Busted a trout/In her mouth/Left a tooth missin/In disbelief I started flippin/Tellin lies/Nose growin longa than Scot Pippen

�Baby you buggin/That was my cousin
I was huggin/Scainks come a dime a dozen/You the only one I�m lovin.�

She looked skeptic/Probably feelin disrespected/She said,

�If that�s yo cousin then why she got on yo neclace�

Long pause/Cause I had to play it off

�She thought the joint was hot/And asked if she could floss/At first I said naw/Cause that�s the one for me you bought/But she kept beggin/Until I went ahead and/Took it off.�

In the meantime/Baby spittin blood when she cough/But I�m glad cause she can�t squeal/If she can�t talk!/And my lady had no proof/That we just knocked boots/So she called the ambulance/To get Baby a new tooth/About a week later to my lady�s crib I went/Cause we hadn�t spoke/
Since the fightin incident/Bardged in, and found her on the floor/Wit the same chick/I had just covered up cheatin on her wit.

Name: NIGGAMORTIS(flowmaster---like exhaust pipes)
From: everywhere and nowhere,at once
E-Mail: BIGCEL42
September 28, 1998 at 22:33:51 (EDT)

aye yo..im suffering fron writers block...
but that doesnt present a problem for a true MC....does it?....naw! peep it...

whats is all about?\
the HASTA LA VISTA/
the PASTA,the VISA/
the THOUGHTS from the TEACHER/
the COPS are the CREATURES/
the SPARKS from the HEATERS/
the MARKS from the BEATERS/
REMARKS from the LEADERS/
CAUGHT by the BREEDERS/
who FEED/
FIENDISH PLOT OVERSEERS/
BEVELOVENT/
is every ELMENT ELEGANT/
IRRELEVENT/
leads these theorys to PREVELENCE/

do the knowledge

Name: midnight*(thesilentassassin)*
From: THE D
E-Mail: thesilentone32HOTMAIL.COM
September 27, 1998 at 20:46:44 (EDT)

I rise to burn emcees
with flamable degrees as hot as the sun steams
i take teams, and dismantle with my second string squad
odd, like commodities
i make it a comedy to laugh at wack emcees
who come unarmed without utilities
my weaponery is deadly like drug infested babies
victem's come in groups of many when im finished unleashing rhymes that are plenty
loaded beyond comprehension, i assume position when taking the role of orchestrating this rendition
Midnight's the admiral, the rest are cadets
with brutal text i brake necks and backs whenever i flex
ripping stripes reducing ranks like dwindling funds at banks
verbally causing massacre's to anyone thats askin for the master
to lay down laws with the words flowing from my jaw's
eggshell rappers who battle me get sent packing brokin and then hatched
with a card attached sayin i've been dispatched

...............courtesy of midnight

Name: EKLIPZ
From: Shotz Paul, MN (No Coat)
E-Mail: ABSTRAKPAK
September 26, 1998 at 17:53:53 (EDT)

This is the final full court shot that just sunk the dagger/
the Alpha and basically ain't no comin' after/
The only walkin un-natrual diaster, mic harasser, human anatomy atom smasher/
Flaterry will get you killed fater/
My brain is composed of various different degrees of antimatter/
Studied throuought my life by NASA/
musical maasacre/
my words is sick like Methusula being a flasher/
Spoke with eloqution before the Mayan civilization turned to ruin/
wehn Kareem was sky hookin' as a Bruin/ wehn there was only 13 states inside the Union/
i was nukin' kids with flow while they were in their diapers poopin'/
Scientifical fusion on all ya'll Liliputians/Splittin' poles on purpose despite your superstitious movements/
Transfroming into this poetical mutant/Executin' all the below, above-average students/
Droppin gems deep off the top or the pen/
Got niggaz catching the bends while they resurfacin'/
In the paint boxin' in/ lyrically lockin in/ I don't even wanna share the same fucking oxygen...
...as you wack bastards

Name: Midnight*(TheSilentAssassin)*
From: the d
E-Mail: thesilentone3
September 25, 1998 at 12:12:00 (EDT)

whenever i release raps i hear a million hand claps
infinite daps from peers who say i spit the true facts
on top of that, i balance scales with weight thats heavier
if you go by mass that means im the dominator
crowd penetrater
drillin' holes in heads with lyrical barages
visable, but untouchable like mirages i have the advantage
you dont match up cuz you dont have the correct leverage
above the average, my works are known as M.V.P
thee marvelous, verbally, pleasurable
skills are unmeasurable
my kindergarden scribble scrabble's are labled as collectables
much greater than equal than
i car pool like van's to a set to wreck the next man
in a my previous life i was a cave man
battlein' clans with wooden microphones
shinin' brighter than a penny's copper tone
more brighter than torches in cave tunnels
lyrical funnels blowin' emcees away by the hundreth's
magicaly i'll reduce my size and battle emceeing midgets
and make em more shorter with the mic sword thats ridget
styles more colder than the term fridget
will leave you froze with the skin stuck to ya clothes
gotcha widelike hoes standing in ajar door ways
burning ya with heat rays when i get solar powered from the sun for days

Name: NIGGAMORTIS
From: B.O.S.T.O.N???
E-Mail: BIGCEL42
September 24, 1998 at 14:02:24 (EDT)

what PART of the GAME is THIS?\
SPIT HOTTER than FLAME\
so BLAME my LIPS/
the GAME is GRIP/
touch the mic--i'll SPRAIN YA SHIT/
ATTAININ THIS/
for you is a LOST CAUSE/
i TOSS BARS/
like bitches in NUDIE BARS\
TOSS BRAS/
with no PRACTICE/
i've ENTERED in THIS RAPSHIT/
and TAPPED IT/
like a BITCH BENT OVER BACKWARDS/
in 200 WORDS or LESS/
you HEARD the BEST/
OBSERVE the STRESS/
like NERDS with GUESS/
GEAR/
NIGGAMORTIS--- I BE THE BEST HERE/
the REST FEAR/
i got flow like BECKS BEER/
i upset QUEERS/
and straighten shit out like gordon,jeff STEERS/
MORE THAN ORDINARY VETS HERE/
you couldnt fuck with this shit on your best day--in your very BEST YEAR/
it's the return of the greatest mc that EVER LIVED/
WHATEVA KID!!/
see--niggas thought i died--I NEVER DID/
1/3 of the top mc's to EVER HOLD A MIC/
so HOLD THE SIGHT/
jackin niggas like son--WHO STOLE THE MIKE(get it?)

Name: TONY COSTA
From: 121 Academy
E-Mail: mr_costa
September 23, 1998 at 18:36:27 (EDT)

3:37 in the morning...eyes is forced open
Detecting danger
Heart beating suspect a stranger
Frightened....My senses heighten
Expecting the worse
Envisioned my dead body
Cold in a hearse
The first
Thought was to prepare and arm myself
Using a weapon I knew
So I wouldn't harm myself
After a quick glance,
My stance was I had no chance
A bedroom offers no resistance
To this type of advance
Standing in the darkness
With all my clothes off
My Pen and Pad...I had been writing rhymes
Before I dozed off
And figured that since it protected me From fellow MC's
Maybe it could help me
Against this new enemy
But my thought was interrupted
Tranquillity corrupted
The beast broke down the door and
Then erupted
I started spitting rhymes
But no damage was made
Kicked a verse about a knife
And in my hand appeared a blade
But the beast stole my lines
My knife and my rhymes
And copied every aspect of
My special design
Stole everything then tried hard to flee
"Wait that ain�t a beast...
but a bitch-ass MC"
This part of the game ain't even fair
The Alarm went off
"Fuck what a horrible nightmare"

Name: TONY COSTA
From: 121 Academy
E-Mail: mr_costa
September 23, 1998 at 18:36:27 (EDT)

Name: CasTro
From: TDOT Toronto canawhat
E-Mail: dmxx
September 22, 1998 at 01:36:50 (EDT)

castro iz known to castrate any niggaz who act like bitches/ niggaz who wanna battle me get tossed in ditches/i give no luv to sniches and mceez who switch for material riches/like a geenie ima grant you 2 plus 1 wishes/i go on and on like dat pink bunny fuck share as if ma name was sonny bone-O/Castro recking micatastrophe like ma name was nasty not even nas's lyrical skills can pass me by/on the d-low like carleto/niggaz round ma way knows i be da black mafie-o-so/sticking shorties for dey doe/but on real you and i know i reck a nigga from iz knees to his elbow/fuck a calabo---ration i specialize in assasination/you recognizing da nigga you be FACING

?CasTro?

Name: NIGGAMORTIS
From: BOSTON,MASS
E-Mail: bigcel42
September 21, 1998 at 00:51:46 (EDT)

ome day it all make sense why my lyrics is BOMBING\
yall niggas be like the sense because you coming off COMMON/
im on some shit like my name was FEISIS\
yall niggas could be as NICE/
as jerry RICE/
and you still couldnt RECEIVE THESE\
words i SPEAK SWEET\
like HERBS that TWEEK STREETS\
keep MY SHEETS STREAKED/
like unprotected sex WITH FREAKS\
you come WEAK with no END to THIS\
grab the mic--i'll BEND YA WRIST\
SEND your MEN to END the SHIT\
i must ADMIT\
i look for a NICER MC THAN ME--- i know it'll BE AWHILE\
but IM'A BE WILD\
wit OFF OF THE HEAD FREESTYLES\

NO ?

Name: Dj Scooter
From: Chicago
E-Mail: sziebell
September 19, 1998 at 23:30:13 (EDT)

kick some big mouth in the head cause true hip hop he cant measure/ if you cant see that my rhymes are clever?/then whatever/ya fucken eyes/there will be a big
surprise/stop using this fake demon disguise/i hope you learned ya
lesson/cause you might of fucked over with a lot of emcees but not
this one/ You should have let sleeping dogs lie/and let the challenge pass/and you wouldn't be missing a chunk out your ass/so go on and run with your tail tucked/and think of a new style to construct/you an amateur/ya playing ya self, words from jeru the damaga/from this day on ya always look at the calender/knowing that in September Scooter knocked you out the box/you came in my house now you running as if i was the 3 bears and you trespassed like goldie locks/face it this whole thing backfired in ya face/now there is shit on ya name, what a disgrace/and dont worry i did not forget to touch base on this issue of race/i dont care how you look or taste/when you fuck with me its over/nothing can save you not ya color not even a 4 leaf clover/

more to come.....

Name: Q The Intense Nemesis
From: Oakland,Ca.
E-Mail: thahonorable
September 18, 1998 at 23:28:28 (EDT)

As I follow the holy apostle Muhammad/The systems like a brothel
Fuckin w/o a conscience/Any man with melanin in his skin/I'm feelin like PM
Benjamin Natenyahu/My people we being lie to/
Question: How many believe GLOBAL peace is possible?/And why when we dead are we told to rest in it?/Maybe cause tragically while we're livin there's infinite amount of savagery/That cause our innocent to rape of purity/No time for puberty/Our youth force to face maturity/Intelligent sistas often are valued only for they nudity/And many who speak truthfully/Suffer abuse brutally/So the only peace attainable may be peace of mind/Some preachers speak divine/But eat the swine and rob the congregation blind/My neice is 9 seeing drugs sold in the public/Not knowin her dad's doin a bid for sellin the same substance/The world's corrupted/But fuck it/I gotta a GAIN/Pave the way like those that came before and did the same thang/Learn the lessons from my pain/And try to remain sane/Stay in my right lane, and drop my slave name/And adopt a game that's different/From man's jurisdiction/Historically used for inflictin the abuse of Racial Darwinism...Mpire/7sector

Name: Midnight*(TheSilentAssassin)*
From: the d
E-Mail: thesilentone3
September 17, 1998 at 13:23:53 (EDT)

i leave opposition more frozen than ice statues
flowing at light speed like time traveling capsules
feel my rapture and lets see if you can handle the torture
causing caos and disorder, im telepathically battlin
leaving ya mind stragglin, grapplin to that last piece of sanity inside the cranium
will take my minimum and divide it by itself
the sum will still be greater than your rhyming wealth could profess
im tighter than a three piece suit with two vest
marvelous, ingenious like an Einstien protege', squared
geared to spear an emcee when a sharp line is flared
when they hear a knock emcees dont look for Jehovah followers
the door stay's closed cause im outside ready to devouer
stayin precise like accurate measurements
never hesitant
i'll go unarmed into battle zone residence
and use the mind intelligance to conjure rhyme's to devestate the most powerful alliance
recycling the remains into a museum to show my unlimited range
of my lyrical weapons linked like chains,
i spend my all looking for no change
my only satisfaction is emcee decapatation
using the mic as a tool givin' leathal incisions
to those who be wishin to tangle with the assassin magican
and get mangled, unrecognizable beyond comprehension

Name: DJ Scooter
From: Chicago
E-Mail: sziebell
September 16, 1998 at 15:02:42 (EDT)

You can be the Demon of Rap/if you wanna be/and because of your
existence/-exists me/all things must balance toward equilibrium/every
ignorant thinker has knowledge contradicting him/you can make believe
about being hell spawn/smoking fat blunts talkin' "word is
bond"/creatin' your existence from what you see on television/watchin'
"Serpent and the Rainbow"/so now Voodoo is your religion/Well since
you're a dark mutha fucka,/I am the light/Chasing away your shadows/so
my people can sleep at night/I Bring intelligence to your ignorant rap
game/sizing up the situation and throwing down the blame/the devil and all of his followers fun when they hear my name/now who's running from who in your little game/you say i want to be black and i use the word nigga to much/you say i cant battle but now you cant handle my bunch/I use hip hop to express me and what i be/every once and awhile i have to bring out the dragon like Bruce lee/kick some big mouth in the head
cause true hip hop he cant measure.......

believe there is more to come.................

Name: Q
From: Oakland, Ca.
E-Mail: thahonorable
September 15, 1998 at 14:59:24 (EDT)

RE-Enter the vigilante
Deconstructin any mic you hand me
Even when I�m sittin opposition can�t stand me
So intimidatin that the sun scared to tan me
So even when in Miami I�m cool as an ice cube
You small like mice food
Son I�m larger tha life
I�ll spare you now so latta you can tell your daughter I�m nice
I slaughter in spite of crews accolades and praise
If former Macs become IBM (I-gnorant & B-itch M-ade)
In Q High, most rappers wouldn�t make it pass the tenth grade
If intelligence was measured by the lyrics that your pen made
I couldn�t care less if your first name was Sen Sie
You still my student
And I�m still the undisputed
Influenced by the purest of Middle eastern style discipline
My lyrics should be cherished like a diabetics inselin
You should even pay attemtion when
I�m clearin my throat
Cause chances are my MIC CHECKS�LL make you sorry you spoke
Your silly insults could hardly provoke a riot in KKKlansville
Your meatphors don�t move me
Son, they at a stand still
But time will reveal which of us will settle for less
And I'm guilty of being nice
But that�s all I�ll confess...

Name: Psyclone
From: Marysville, WA
E-Mail: psyclone
September 14, 1998 at 10:39:29 (EDT)

when I f***ing let loose
I can't be contained
I'll reign for all my years
crushin peers wit my brain
maintain disdain
for phony rappaz who gain
insane amounts of cash
so I'll just leave 'em all in pain
without a cent, just the scent
of smolderin mics
ya goin down on strikes
I likes to hear ya gripes
about how I'm the greatest
and could never be defeated
deleted cause you cheated
yer own style is what you needed
so yo, here we go toe to toe
blow for blow
let me warm up and stretch
so like Treach you can feel me flow
the first team all-pro
the most avoided foe
my skills grow at the show so
the first to last row know
who's the baddest, the phattest
MC who is the maddest
I'm goin crazy
flippin rhymes like acrobatics
relax on craftmatics
automatically fantastic
give you sarcastic props
cause I'm a jerk like a spastic
I'll be detonatin mines
if you read between lines
imposin fines
for those who are composin wack rhymes
when times are the toughest
I become the roughest
enough is enough
I step up and crush the gruffest
voiced MC
thinkin he bad cause he scream
snap outta the dream
I'll wake you up with a laser beam
aimed in your cornea, I warning ya
and scorning ya
leave your family mourning ya

Name: DJDAVID
From: D-TOWN
E-Mail: MASTERP7
September 13, 1998 at 04:31:25 (EDT)

YO I HEARD U WANNA BATTLE SO I'M READY FO WAR\
I'M KICKIN UNREHEARSED VERSES WHERE EACH LYRIC IS RAW\EACH LYRIC THAT I KICK IS FOLLOWED BY A BREIF APPLAUSE\BECAUSE, I'M FLIPPIN MO FLOW'S THEN DOMINIQUE DAWES\THE NIGGA WIT NO FLAWS\IS READY TO BAWL OR BRAWL AT ANY AND ALL COST\IT'S JUST LIKE TONY DANZA IT'S NO QUESTION WHO'S THE BOSS\THE NIGGA WHO MAKE ALL YO RYMES SEEM INFERIOR\EAT AWAY YO SKIN BURN AWAY YO EXTEREIOR\THE NIGGA WITH THE I.Q. THAT'S OFF THE SCALE\IF WORDS COULD KILL\A VERSE OF MINE WOULD MURDER A MILL.

Name: NIGGAMORTIS(Marcel Smith)
From: boston,mass (the foundation)
E-Mail: TROO MC. com
September 12, 1998 at 17:41:41 (EDT)

off the dome...

true mc's step to the FOREFRONT\
with more STUNTS\
most yall niggas on STORE HUNTS\
or EXPLORE CUNT\
what MORE u WANT?/
24 hr LYRICIST\
give niggas a inch- they take a mile- and STILL AND NEARING THIS\
my OBSERVATIONS\
STARVE the NATION\
the PROCLAMATION\
tape date release got you waiting like a DOCTORS PATIENTS\
the CREATION\
FACING the FACTS--TRACKS i LAY WITH\
my word is born niggas, that rap shit i got NAKED\

yo... i took some SHADY LOSSES... yall niggas make me laugh!! cheaters!

Name: Dj Scooter
From: Chicago
E-Mail: sziebell
September 11, 1998 at 00:41:28 (EDT)

post ya rhyme and wait for ya votes
don't rock the boats
a problem of cheating is growing
don't you know that ya rhymes are showing
if ya are bring it real or not
we can see if you should of won in less than 1 thought
common can see that shit too
don't forget ya rhymes represent you
there is nobody you are fooling
so you and the rest of the weak heads should be car pooling
out of the battle zone
it don't matter how many wins ya own
or steal
just as long as you know I'm going to kill
the style you bring
don't forget to a real emcee you don't mean a thing
that is why its got to stop
we need to clean up the slop
someone shitted on ya name�
so then ya play this game�
to prove who the best�
it goes on and on with no rest�
squash the beef chef�
stop the complaining and the blaming�
the shit talking must end try to bend�
I'm going to make sure it ends�
so that wack fucks don't have to pretend�
so that they cant cheat�
so that a real emcee never gets beat�
and the weak we will defeat

Name: TONY COSTA
From: 121 Academy
E-Mail: mr_costa
September 08, 1998 at 19:57:34 (EDT)

Fuck you and the dykes my styles intellectual
When I hit I make all 100 of em go back to
heterosexual
God needed intelligent conversation
Cause he was lonely
Called upon Tony
Took me to heaven then he cloned me
Only one version in heaven
The other on earth
So answer me this
"How much is one mans worth?"
Your style is the worst
actuality you can't compete with my mentality
Cause when I get through voices from beyond be like "Fatality"
I do the dirt then juggle mics with the bloody glove
Dip you in razors, push you off a clif
And be like "I'm a cut above"
Cause when I kick verses God will bless
Halloween night Mike Myers rang my doorbell....saw me then screamed
"Wrong address"
I be the best....gifted rhymes manifest
With my pen write "Costa's Bitch"
All over your chest
Cause I hold the mic
like
slumlords hold leases
Drop your dismembered body in a coffin
Then be like Rest in Pieces
Don't take it personal heres the education
I've had a long day and your the object of my frustration

Name: Midnight*(theSilentAssassin)*
From: Detroit
E-Mail: thesilentone3
September 06, 1998 at 23:11:01 (EDT)

im arriving on site with Mic-Nuclear Bombs
leaving those not armed more holier than the pages of Psalms
listen as the mockingbird hums the song
the melody making ones do the dance of death
locked in a trance bu command they kill themselves
go head, take the chance
but just remember i am warning you in advance
in mic wielding stance i aim at your head
advice, better get to moving like that man named Jed
on a mission to expose imposter's with brain-busting clusters
me with no-skills is like all-people eating hotdogs with no mustard
bringing war similar-to general Custard
raiding sets with real-live special effects
as a weapon im using a voodu hex
for the picked suspect who must get scorned next
and with text i kick ass
might as well change my to Tex-as
dropping lyrics with abominable mass
dazzling, running circles-around heads like the flash
since im extraterestrial my blood color is the same as cash
if you cant do the math that means your faculty cant match my staff
and if it cant match my staff then in a battle there will be a blood bath

yeah, and to Mysterious..........we-all-know-who-the-real Maestro is

peace!!

Name: TONY COSTA
From: 121 ACADEMY
E-Mail: mr_costa
September 06, 1998 at 16:36:57 (EDT)

Tony Costa be the name
Tidal waves of flame
To lay claim and incinerate
Your molecular membrane
I bring the pain....on the regular
The secular go to pious
On they knees screaming at the stars
"COSTA DON'T FRY US"
Weak Niggas like you won't recover son
If you took the mic away
I'd drink the blood of a lizard
And grow another one
I'm the number one
Cause of MC fatalities
Niggas get mad at me
Cause I hold it down like
Big Pun and gravity
I'll never be faded, dont construct doubt
I'm Nelson Mandela
Let my style the fuck out
Fuck the bull and what you've been told
I juggle with live grenades
Cause they scared to explode
Verbal handicap...cant attack at night
My styles so bright
I can only strike
During daylight
I play fight
With that, that other people fear
Shrink myself..live in your ear
So Costa is all you'll ever hear
From fire to flesh I can always switch
Drop you in a den full of cobras
Wearing a snake skin jacket and scream
"Paybacks a Bitch"
I dismantle rappers..put em in pieces
I'm so sick
Vampires check my blood for diseases
Niggas return like "What happened here?"
Its Hurricane Costa
Invading you atmosphere

Name: TONY COSTA
From: 121 ACADEMY
E-Mail: mr_costa
September 05, 1998 at 20:55:55 (EDT)

Its Hurricane Costa
Spitting sickness infect the doctor
I play hop-scotch through
minefields in Strilanka
On the ninth day God created me
I was born
Nicknamed me COSTA
Then changed the Sun's name to Warm
Then warned
"Beware Hell's fire in humanoid form"
I swarm and infect like flies and maggots
Dress you in drag then drop you
In a room full of faggots...I'm automatic
Crews by the dozen get slayed
My Tongue's so sick when I eat pussy
I give AIDS
Made a name for myself by killing MC's
Killed a bunch
And still aint gone empty
Don't Tempt me
The battles I've seen in my lifetime
I'll kill you
Then write rhymes on your lifeline
Niggas drag my name through the mud
To gain what?
You could drag me through a field of knives
And I wouldn't get cut
I ignite...you wanna write?...
you wanna fight?
Draw a microphone on your chin
Kick a verse, masturbate, then be like
"I busted on the mic....twice"
I'm so nice my syles like Mother Teresa
Cause niggas is waiting for you to fall offLike the Leaning Tower of Pisa

Name: Midnight*(TheSilentAssassin)*
From: Detroit
E-Mail: thesilentone3
September 05, 1998 at 03:11:04 (EDT)

Midnight, a solo squadron more fearsome than the four-horsemen
where's the swords-men
i swing the mic like vader with the-red light saber
with a force more greater than jedi-knight crusader's
an emcee slayer, causing more casualties than Brave Heart
using tight skills as cohorts to take all assembled-challengers apart
enter my court get sentenced to punishment of all sorts
if-you lack rhyme support you'll die playin my game of verbal-bungi sport
its war games, and im armed with weapons to mame
using the mic chord as a whip wild emcees i calmly tame
you bring the scheme i slide under it like vasoline
then counter act with a team more on target than solar beams
burning holes in the seams leaving ya mentality faded like denim-jeans
my means of destruction are actions more glorifying than sermon's
i play the role of doormen's and serve those with majestic-flows
spell-castin' on my foes they faint from the impact of powerful blows
already i see the fear in your eyes visually
mystically, the veins in ya optics bulge out the round sockets
cause im bringing tactics using habits that leave scars on chest's more gruesome than sagat's
Midnight stay dangerous like dogs that are rabid

Name: Dj Scooter
From: THE REAL HIP HOP
E-Mail: THE TRUTH IS THE ONLY WAY
September 04, 1998 at 12:33:42 (EDT)

USE THE FACTS

Ya say ya from the streets... who you fooling?
there's no need to cry cause its you I'm schooling
7 to 3 lead and some how you come up with the win
thats bullshit but everyday i see it again and again
you are making a name for yaself by lying
i see right through that game ya trying
if you are so great then why you got to cheat
is it cause you can't face the defeat?
the outcome of that battle you and i both know
its just to bad you were too pussy to let it show
i am here to battle again
maybe this time you will not pretend
there is not enough heads around this site
for you to win from 7 to 3 over night
you cheating.....
makes the scroll look like shit
everybody knows that it dont fit
it aint going in the hall of fame
ya a fool playing this game
Think before you do something that dumb
Think before yathat mouth or another ass kicken you will get one

(if you try a comeback keep it real we both know you aint fucking my lady)

Name: Tone Deff of (RBM)
From: Miami (305)
E-Mail: QN5
September 04, 1998 at 00:17:25 (EDT)

A PRELUDE TO THE STAGE

MC�s to me are DRAMA STUDENTS/
that�s memorizing my lines for their personal MONOLOGUES/
ACTING like they ON THE JOB to
TRACK the WACK in MASS QUANTITIES/
I Break OFF niggas that think they�re ON TO ME/
You be less in ACCORD with Rhymes than HONDA BE/
Those who dare to RESPOND TO ME
get played like a roll in the DIVINE COMEDY;
fixed in a life of DESPONDANCY/
I prick the Pricks and Lyrical COCKS you�re USED To/
If bitches get wet up, even them pussy MC�s get DOUCHED, TOO/
Your Sour as VINNEGAR, I got the Bouyancy Of OIL/
No matter how hard you TOIL, You still liable to BOIL/
Like SKIN, When you�re WITHIN my DIMENSION/
Without a SECOND of APPREHENSION/
Niggas get served like BENSON/
Smoother than George whenever I blow...your WIG BACK/
I�ll cross off your TOES, cause all your rhymes is TIC-TAC/
Your style is WIC-WACK, So, fuck your mindless CHIT-CHAT/
If I disperse your limbs, now how the hell you gonna HIT BACK?/
Now, if you WIT� DAT, and in it for the sake of TRYIN�/
You�ll be Bloodier than theng scene of SAVING PRIVATE RYAN.

guess who's back.

Name: Tony Costa
From:
E-Mail:
September 03, 1998 at 22:07:43 (EDT)

Fuck y'all, I've got big bollocks for my pops to suck right now, mmmmmmmm, mmmmmmm, hehehe, lully lully...

Name: The G.reat U.N.known aka ANonymouS aka TheLastMC
From: WorldWide
E-Mail: rug1
September 03, 1998 at 03:36:16 (EDT)

Ayo..... I rang in the New-Year Nineteen-Ninety-Three with the death of my older-brother P/From following the G.O.D. to living-a life of fallacy/Completing the full-circle spun from bloodshed and tears of reality/Mental-progression,led to third-eye perception/the lies and deception,are no-longer in question/In every session releasing aggression inorder not to respond-in violence/Contemplation through meditation,awakened to the sun's silence/The God's hour,I flower with the "wisdom imprisoned within the system"/Created to destroy and rebuild into a mold used to control the soul's decisions/I make due-with what was given,thankful I'm no-longer living-it real,but correct/Divine intellect changed my retrospect like my address from the projects/Still hoping for the best,but receiving the short-end of the stick/It hit my heart when I found out my little brother's seeing a psychiatrist/Only eight-years on this planet and he no longer can stand it/It's like the government planned-it to leave our people stranded/But why lay blame on unknown entities,when in our own communities,we're killing ourselves relentlessly/The hennessey and cannabis became entrusted as our new lord and savior/As we savor the flavor from selling our lives at a greater wager/Watching our women turn their body into street-labor,turning favors/Another life without meaning/Deceiving and scheming replaced reaching and dreaming/I wonder when my people stopped believing...........

Name: Dj Scooter
From: http://www.dimensional.com/~jenny/Scooter/
E-Mail: sziebell
September 02, 1998 at 14:29:57 (EDT)

I am posting this rhyme again because some cheating ass bitch can�t take a loss......yall know who it is

Trouble ahead? show me the way/fear is not an idea in my day/I show up
and stay/I face it and make it pay/so run run run and hide/i see no
need to run cause hip hop is on my side/and no I'm not here for a free
ride/i pave the road you can see all the wack emcees who have died/they
tried/but in the end all they did was lied/oh me oh my/there is no need
to cry/it was a good try/but now you know that hip hop does not just
come from the sky/you just don't think this shit up/you just don't poor
this shit out of a cup/you don't become a super emcee as a pup/there's
more than the world cup to win/you have to be true and not sin/speak
from ya heart from deep down within/when you do that you are hip hop/but
when you don't you are slop/and you need to stop/

Name: The G.reat U.N.known aka ANonymouS aka TheLastMC
From: WorldWide
E-Mail: rug1
September 02, 1998 at 03:29:20 (EDT)

Chorus>
I represent//
for all my people stuck up in ghetto tenements//
for all the true survivors living as hell's residents//
those that struggle against the streets testaments//
knowing their death is eminent, but refusing to show sentiments.

Verse>
For those I represent//
With eloquence I formulate a sentence with Electro-magnetic properties//
possibly, forming anomalies but remaining logically cast//
first class autonomously, following my own path//
street oddessey, properly taken and formed//
awakened brainstorm migrated for warm climates//
to triumph with enlightenment//
the science written on hidden parchment//
held by the parliament, to hold us stagnant//
directing us on a tangent, far from our destination//
such as incarceration, money chasing, low wage occupations, bodily mutilations, drug sensations, unprotected fornication, liquor adoration, and hatred of our population, increasing with each generation//
PAUSE....................................................................................
The silence is in respect for those no longer living//
systematically tragedies committed for provisions//
hunger driven, predatory chalk written ghetto stories//
a life of aleatoric proportions//
the course within forced from equality//
now follow me, we're not equal, under the eagle//
so I reveal the unbelievable as now conceivable//
politicking with a Devil in a cathedral of evil//
demanding that God release my people.............

Name: NIGGAMORTIS(born with the name,MARCEL SMITH)
From: the planet once known as earth.(boston,mass)
E-Mail: BIGCEL42( for more insight)
September 01, 1998 at 06:21:31 (EDT)

niggamortis HOLDS the BOARD DOWN\
this nigga POUR the SOUND\
never WATERED DOWN\
HOLD the SWORD and WORE the CROWN\
EXPLORED the VERBS and NOUNS\
to FORM the WORDS you HEARD in SOUND\
TOURED in YOUR TOWN\
and WORD is BORN---i TORE it DOWN\
MYSTICALLY my MINDS a MYSTERY\
if you FIND a TIME in HISTORY\
DEFINE my LINES in RHYME\
REWIND\
then GET WIT ME\
INSTANTLY-my minds a RUBICS CUBE\
hold information like COMPUTERS DO\
the Y2K problem cant get TO THIS DUDE\
i stay TRUE to THIS\
most of yall niggas is NEW TO THIS\
i stick wit this SHIT\
like i was SCREWING a BITCH wit GLUE TITS\

P.S----- post your rhymes while you can, when the YR2G hits,the computers WILL be fucked...people,watch your backs, trouble is ahead.....aight yall, BE AWARE

Name: The G.reat U.N.known aka ANonymouS aka TheLastMC
From: WorldWide
E-Mail: rug1
August 31, 1998 at 01:57:22 (EDT)

My street manners reminiscent of Tony Montana/
Stuck in his mansion, with halfway assasins advancing/
My passion is smashing in these masked men and other lacking factions/
You aint heard my skwodd's the nicest, who the fuck you asking/
Posing like you 25 to life, always sounding redundent/
Physically I'm repping six hundreds, you dont really want it/
I bring it straight whether inebriated or blunted/
Fronted niggas get hunted till I reach my final summit/
Taught by the best, possesed with enough finesse to bless the whole net/
Leaving MC's mad sending me email death threats/
Well that love, hate's, reciprocated/
I dont give a fuck how many wins you've accumulated/
cause most of the stories you've fabricated are way overated/
If this concerns you then just listen/
All you (M)asengil (C)ats need to stop bitching/
Making claims that aint reality/
In actuality, when you mention my skwodd,
make sure you chose your words carefully.

Shouts:
Oh my god its da skwood, Vahcittie 98.
The Lan
Peace be the way
The Lan is eternal
Love is Love

Name: Tha Demon
From: Hell, AZ
E-Mail:
August 30, 1998 at 02:39:04 (EDT)

Manachaism- tha Devil created tha world while smokin izm/
Watching az we perish in tha flamez of Earth'z prizm/
Terrorizm iz among us, infectin veinz of madmen/
Pumpin pain thru tha blood, venom thru semen/
Tha Demon iz within, grim, and full o' sinz/
I picture chrome war-zonez where it'z known nobody winz/
Cuz evil iz real, dictatin armiez 4 tha slaughter/
I used 2 love H.E.R., until them wack catz went and shot her/
Hide ya daughter, virgin pussy iz hard 2 come by/
Dick-shaped misslez be firin from one-night-stand drive-byz/
I uze my imagination 2 imagine a nation/
Where tha dead rize from tha grave 2 rezurrect elevation/
Of new dayz, new wayz, but hope floatz 2 far above/
Sun rayz may pierce tha dark, but there'z no sight of love/
White dovez become a myth, black crowz circle tha abyss/
Guarding lost soulz in tha ghetto 2 guerillaz in tha mist/
Our mindz twist az we cross enemy linez wit clenched fists/
Into dangerous territory, now we tell storiez in drunk lisps

Name: NIGGAMORTIS
From: BOSTON,MASS
E-Mail: BIGCEL42
August 29, 1998 at 00:50:04 (EDT)

BIGUP to all heads involved in returning the arena to battle status...

BEHOLD the nigga WHO FROZE the arena and the SURVIVORS SCROLL\
EYES WILL ROLL\LIERS FOLD\nigga I SUPPLY THE GOLD\
now you can enter your lyrics..200 words OR LESS\
IGNORNE the REST\ peep NIGGAMORTIS of the FOUNDATION,EXPLORE THE BEST\
from NORTH to WEST\
to the END of the EARTH\
im BENDIN A VERSE\
to SEND in REVERSE then im SENDING A HURST\
to battle me is APOCALIPTIC\
you BROUGHT A GLOCK to LIFT IT\
but that SHIT SPIT 60 seconds less then what my LIPS SPIT\
i RIP SHIT\
to give bootie raps there DISTANCE\
for INSTANCE\
this is off of the dome--no note book EQUIPMENT\

THE RETURN.....

Name: NUC
From: Pittsburgh
E-Mail:
August 28, 1998 at 10:52:48 (EDT)

Yo step to my soul instead of to my body/You'll get caught up in it like an assistant to John Gotti/Where's the Bacardi did all those players drink it /Or was it the Moet/ I'm a threat to ya state like Timothy McVeigh/ Yo I don't play when it comes to competition and just your occassional representin stop your bitchin/ And lookout for the never under competition/

Name: NIGGAMORTIS ( of the foundation crew )
From: EVERYWHERE AND NOWHERE, AT ONCE
E-Mail: BIGCEL42
July 26, 1998 at 08:49:07 (EDT)

YOUR FUCKING EYES PEOPLE....

a government of OBSESSION\
BLESSIN niggas CARESSIN WEAPONS\
the REST is LEFT WHEN\
your BRETHREN steps into INFECTION\
a LESSON in POPULATION CONTROL\
DROP the NATION in SOUL---\
by SOUL PROPORTION\ ABORTION slows\
FOLLOW THIS\LIKE HOLLOW TIPS\
aimed at POLITICS\
they all are TRICKS with CURES that LURE to SHALLOW SHIT\
a false CURE INHIBITS you like PROTEASE\
i KNOW THESE\ are LIES DEVISED to SLOW BREEDS\ and NO SEEDS\
are BORN the devil FORMS GOVERNMENT\
fuck the CLINTON SCANDLE\
HANDLE the OTHER SHIT\
INTOXICATION--- ROCKS the NATION\
BLOCKS the PATIENT\
LOCKS the VAGRANT\
SACREAT parts are VACANT\
SPOTS are TAKEN\
THOUGHTS of SATAN\
the human eye is BLIND to LIES, DECIET, CORRUPTION\
whats your LUCK WHEN-- service broadcast systems INTERUPT COMPLETE DESTRUCTION\
the NEW WORLD ORDER is FORMED with SWARMS to KEEP you IN\
PEEP WITHIN\ inbedded computer chips DEEP into SKIN\
KEEPING you IN the control they feel YOU OUGHT TO BE\
as percieved by the BEAST\
a COMPLETE-- DEMONOCRACY/

information fed to you by MARCEL SMITH aka NIGGAMORTIS.

Name: TONY COSTA
From: 121 ACADEMY
E-Mail: mr_costa
July 25, 1998 at 14:58:23 (EDT)

My imagination
Is consistent with Japanesse Animation
I breathe hostility and cough accusation
The combination of poet and abomination
I'll bomb a nation
Then enter the wasteland searching for vacation
Seperation from this site aint harmed my flows
I'll have the paralyzed like
"I feel it in my toes"
The world knows
I send crews reeling
Gave me a mic when I was a child
To ease my mind when I was teething
But now I'm seeing
Deeper than Microscopes
Gotta use bandages on my hands
Cause my mic can smoke
And I'm quick to the kill like Savanna cheetahs
I got more lines
Than a million pair of Adidas
And its not that Im hard
But some of ya'll niggas is soft
So when I spit hot shit
You bob your head to cool
Your ear-drums off
Tony Costa the dreamer
The lyrical scemer
when I drop the mic it'll be like
The bombing of Hiroshima
Thats blood on your monitor
That aint read dye
I got mind power and deep thoughts
Like a JEDI

Name: MAESTRO CIPHER
From: THE D
E-Mail: maestro27
July 24, 1998 at 18:42:44 (EDT)

Enter your lyrics 200 words of less
you want some tight rhymes, well I'll try my best
call like distress
what's on my mind just try to guess
I'm getting back in the sattle
ready to battle
ripping it as always
maestro was here cuz the stage is in a blaze
have you wondering for days
then the world will praise my name
some will be afraid
cuz I cause pain
in the brain
like a migrain
mic out of control, put in chains
I'm ready to seek and destroy
start wit michigan than illinois
wack mcees don't tag alone
cuz I'll dust you on the microphone
who's this behind me
you can't catch me
cuz I'm breaking the sound barrier traveling at mach three
a terminal velocity
that can match my ferocity
an mc can boast to me
until they get roast by me
my thoughts crystal clear
going through my atmosphere
than the rocketeer
a maestro, there can be only one
and that's me
the best there is the best there was and the best there ever will be
which is me
an mc for the 90's
now follow me
into the next century.

Name: odyssey
From: BUFFALO(5TH ELEMENT)
E-Mail: wma8
July 24, 1998 at 13:23:32 (EDT)

FREESTYLE---
YOU WANNA MURDER ME VERBALLY/ BUT YOU CAN NEVER HURT ME/GRAB YA SATTELITE AND WATCH ME HURT G'S/ WITH THIS FREESTYLE--I'M DEFININ/ CALL ME A GEM I'M SHININ/ GET EVERY WACK VERSE YOU SPIT IS SHIT--SO STOP WHININ/ I'M IN MY PRIME AND/YOU CAN NEVER TAKE MY STEEZ/I'LL REARRANGE YA EGO TO MATCH THE STEEZ OF MY DEGREES/ 4001 CELCIUS IN MY ATMOSPHERE-YA HEART IS BOUT TO FREEZE/ SO ROCK A SWEATER/ WE BOUNCIN IN A FLY BARETTA/ I GOT A VENDETTA THICK LIKE ARMORETTA--YOU BITCHES

Name: Q
From: East Oakland
E-Mail: thahonorable
July 23, 1998 at 17:30:14 (EDT)

In 200 words or less
I'm carvin' space to breathe
As I graciously
Cave in your chest
God has forsaken me
To patiently pro-gress
Stack up my competition
And use 'em as an arm rest
Dislodgin they nonsense
(Use your com-sense)
Don't miss a diamond
Chase afta dimes
(Develop a conscience)
Don't give up on cause it's hard to find
Cause if it's really worth it
You''ll realise that the purpose
Of makin you struggle longer
Was to make you stronger
(Tell the truth)
You don't wanna
Develop bad karma
With a brotha wit superior armor
Cause Q could harm ya
Naturally peaceful like the Dhali Lama
But if you cherish what I dishonor
I'll confront you like yo own mama
You think you hotta
(Come)
Step into my suana...
I'll watch you melt
Then drink you like pina colada
Fuck a baby fatha
I wanna bless my seed wit the essence Of my presence
(Not that gift bullshit)
Teach 'em life's lessons
Like a man's-own-religion-can be his mental-prison-if-he-don't-also-search-for-the-wisdom-trapped-within-em...
I'm spittin concentrated venom
For you digest
Keep battlin' soldiers
God bless....

Name: NIGGAMORTIS
From: BOSTON
E-Mail: NIGGAMORTIS
July 23, 1998 at 00:53:47 (EDT)

BATTLING my nigga to the left QUIET STORM
GRAPPLING the SWARMS so when i TURN RIOTS FORM\ PEEP how easily a freestyle is DONE\
rock from ONE to ONE click like THUMBS TO GUNS\ NEVER LOSE forEVER BRUSE CREWS that get LOOSE like SHOES EXCUSE this nigga WHO makes the mic BLEDSOE like DREW\
RUNNIN shit like CURTIS MARTIN from jets to PATRIOTS\ PHONITICALLY bring it to heads to RAPE THIS KIDS\
VERBALLY it ABSURD for a nigga to try and HURDLE ME\
leave em in EMERGERENCY like coming out during C--SURGERY\ unprotected WORDERY\
leaves my word born like UNPROTECTED SEX\
with a PORTION of my LAST ABORTION of rhymes i WRECK THESE HEADS.

off the head rap.... also i was on the phone, talkin to a chicken head AT the CRIB and arguing with my KID. so give a nigga some credit. aight then

Name: QuietStorm aka goldanchild
From: Hampton, VA
E-Mail: spy1
July 22, 1998 at 16:55:19 (EDT)

Rhyme #8

Step past-the-fires, squeeze the truth out, grab-the-pliars/
Yo... you know the rules, so never ask-a-liar/

Get caught on tape, by the camera lens magnifiers/
The pacifiers, are handed down by the crack-suppliers/

The the system-is-foul, you get imprisoned-for-miles/
People think they livin-in-style; Man, women-and-child;/

I drive-the-rhythm like a golf-ball, who taught-yall?/
They scorch-all, and smash your head like a soft-ball/

From east, west to north, all the way back-to-south/
you blackin'-out, hit the cold surface passin'-out/

without-the-pills, they steal your soul and make about-a-mill/
and the Jakes, tranform into snakes, that's out-to-kill/

Movin' through the dark, had no chart, to map-the-trenches/
They smack-you-sensless, on the side lines pack-the-benches/

Thinkin' you on the top, now it's time to take-the-fall/
break-through-walls, on your way down to break-the-fall/

Break-the-mold, people step to the door fake-as-gold/
Days-are-over, 4 my native-soldier, cause the case-is-closed/

See..this is battle rhymes..but at the same time life rhymes.....
i mean.. i might not be talkin' about myself battlin' you, or another
mc, i'm talkin' about the system battlin' the average person...
undastand?

More info on QS: http://www.cdrei.com/private_hp/ipn/peeps/gc.html

PeacE

Name: abstract-one
From: stocktown/sweden
E-Mail: abstract
July 22, 1998 at 07:43:16 (EDT)

yo, i'm the A-B/ the S-T/ to R-A the C/ABSTRAC- to the T/ONE Supreme M.C./is who i be/ droppin' unexpectedly/ like rain under sunshine/the mind/on your spine/ is mine/ i control planets, 9/ the greatest in orbit like Jupiter/ but no gaseous surface, i'm hard core/ movin' quick like Mercury/ so hot atomic atmosphere desertin ' me/ but still keep my head cold/ thoughts hit ya, Impact is Deep, explode/ the way i'm bombin' ya/Unusual like Phenomenah/mutilate you/ like cattles/ battles?/ you might win a few/ but you lose in the end like a gamble/ i make you Scream like Neve Campbell/ comin' to stab ya/ it be the Ab-sta/ reach you anywhere like broudcaster/fare more Natural than Disaster/ but still came to bring it/ that bell you better ring it/ you already Timed Out/ this round is mine, Technical Knock-Out!

Name: QUIETSTORM
From: Hampton, VA 23'666
E-Mail: spy1
July 21, 1998 at 20:42:47 (EDT)

Rhyme #7

Whaddup, with all these mc's that claim they packin-guns/
Stackin-funds, Not too hard to figure-n1ggas is actin'-dumb/

With no-design, They fold-your-mind, They too far-for-yall/
They slaughter-yall, and leave you wet like a waterfall/

The sattelites, beam the signal down through traffic-lights/
crack through your shattered-pipes, 4 the television sacrifice/

Makin' wars-in-my-circle? I hate'em more-than-commercials!/
But yo, don't make'em pull out the 44's-then-they-hurt-you/

Who's next-in-line, when they pull out their TeKs-and-Nines../
To arrest-my-mind, harassin' you for the rest-of-time/

I Manifest-the-order, test-the-water, before-you-swim/
You can't afford-to-sin, cause you know the court-will-win/

It's cold-as-sh1t, too cold for people to hold-their-grips/
They sell they soul-to-this, get struck when the boulders-hit/

with the god's-power in the watch-tower, controllin-this/
high speed motorist, mathematicks, (i'm) exposin' this/

I go-deep, they hold-heat/, while i shine like the RZA's
gold-teeth/ from the lands of mecca back to my controlled-streets/

Laws-and-wars, breakin' through walls, u fall-through-floors/
meet the goddess, but you call'em-hors/ ....the biological

mist is caught-in-pores/, causin'-sores/...yo don't even question me.....
cause i saw-this-before/...all of it.......word up

QS'signin' out 1nce'Again ...
Peace

Name: QUIETSTORM
From: Hampton,VA
E-Mail: spy1
July 21, 1998 at 11:07:00 (EDT)

i kick a freestyle, like n1ggamortis from last-night/
grab-mics, sometimes i talk about the cops who don't act-right/
sometimes i talk about, questions we should ask-christ/
sometimes i talk about real mc's who perform songs like black-ice/
right now, vibin' off this new sunz of man, that got-me-
as if it shot-me-it's like i'm pure, n1gas would neva spot-me-smokin'/
Talkin' to my sista, i say she phat..and she say i'm just-nice/
i'm like 'Nahh' , i just bust-mics, and love-life/
then i change thoughts..lookin' at the question at the bottom.."Who has
the fattest-rhyme?/ thinkin' to myself, "I'm the masta-mind/
I grab-the-mind, with a force that'll snap-the-spine.."/
and why is that mc's on tv alwways gotta have a glass-of-wine?/
I neva run-out-of-thoughts/ why do u gota wait for July 4th
just to pull your gun-out-and-spark?/ hahah
but nah yo...it's freestyle 4-real..all in 5 minutes-time/
and i neva show no love if you ain't no friend-of-mine/
but mad respect to this whole Common-Website/
All The egos need to stop like a shinin-red-light/
it's time to get the head-right/ Shotties to Iverson,
but he need to watch the game, before the feds-strike/
lock you up for-the-money, i ask myself and think it's sorta-funny/

let me cchil'yo... i'm talkin' to much
just a brainstorm

Name: QUIETSTORM
From: Hampton, VA yo
E-Mail: spy1
July 20, 1998 at 16:04:36 (EDT)

u gotta listen yo....

The case-is-ova, to the fakest-soldiers, i'm takin-ova/
breakin-shouldas, quench my thrist from the venom of snakes-and-cobras/

Thrown upon the torture-rack, when i'm forced-to-rap,/
I slaughter-tracks, and bomb you with the aim of quarter-backs/

Try-my-wisdom? yo, most mc's can't even ride-the-rhythm/
I neva hesitate, to seperate the god-within-'em/

Locked Inside-the-prison, but they can't stop-my-engines/
time-is-endin', and you can tell by the way i drop-my-sentence/

I hold the keys-to-millions, free-civilians/
Teach-the-children, reach-the-ceilin/ it's double-life,

trouble-life, yo I juggle-life, one-handed/
Run-frantic, the system tried to leave my son-stranded/

The younger-ones-panic, while the other-ones-vanish,/
...So many foul governments and armies in one-planet/

It's life-in-the-makin', livin nights-in-the-basement/
Hearin' 'Ressurection', was a slight-inspiration/

The world loves to let-me-starve, ayo, don't stress-me-god/
bless-me-hard, cause the devil's lasso left-me-scarred/

i'm ghost
peace.. neva respect the beast

Name: QUIETSTORM
From: HamptoN, VA ..days are shorta...
E-Mail: spy1
July 20, 1998 at 02:02:11 (EDT)

The fire burns, feel-the-breeze/, a yo, this is for
for my real-mc's/ makin' swarms like killa-bees/

And I bet you neva been in-my-shoes. Win-or-lose,/
I snatch the mic, and still break your style down into-two's/

Sparkin'-sh1t, like arsonists, you can't see no parts-of-this/
the target-shifts, u neva seen a hit as hard-as-this/

Knowledge-this, check it..U neva seen no god as smart-as-this/
The rap market-flips, we all trapped inside the world of POLITIX/

It's Dollars-and-sense, to my rap scholars, it's time-to-repent/
Form a quietstorm, and transform my lines-into-print/

Time to blow, but neva let the labels controllin-what's-said/
about the money, kid i don't even let my own blood go-to-my-head/

It's all logic, through my catch-lines, i wreck-minds/
Disrespect-mine, and i blow u back like Desert E's and TEK-9's/

Some front like they're grown, yo, they neva been child-yet/
Got they style-wet, then i leave'em split like the DAL-Net/

In three-cyphers, i drop so much sh1t, i need-diapers/
walk a away from the greed, just to raise my seed-righteous/

and control-the-blind, before i'm ever froze-in-time/
Composin' rhymes, for all the true heads withminds/

Yo, u Know-the-time...

PEACE gods and goddeses

praises to tha chosen....

i'm out...

Name: QUIETSTORM
From: Hampton, VA representin'...one more time...
E-Mail: spy1
July 19, 1998 at 10:12:02 (EDT)

A'yo, it's round-three, step into the cypha, the sound, surrounds-me/
My thoughts sink to the bottom, but you couldn't drown-me/

Crack your rap-style, i'm not your ordinary black-child/
Seen you at the party with the mic tryin' to act-wild/

I know too many mc's that fell-victim, hell-tricked'em/
A salesman, without money, though I sell-wisdom/

Walk the frozen-surface, between those who chose-to-worship/
And I wonder how many people know that gold-is-worthless/

I speak-the-mind, I see through your dome, like I see-through-time/
YO, if u don't believe now, wait till 2000, and read-my-rhymes/

So many mc's fallin' out-my-castle/, sometimes i wonder if
it's all about-the-battle/, walkin' around without-my-shadow/

Cuz My rhymes is stacked-up, till 'WWW.COM-COM.COM' lines are backed-up!/
Cause if I was a gun, it'll be like my mind-is-strapped-up/

when the shotty-rounds, make you scream like Bobby-Brown/
Impact the chest, blow the head off, layin' bodies-down/

Crack-the-steel-mic, Why is it that MC's be actin'-real-trife?/
And i really don't need this, cause i can rap-in-real-life/
(no disrespect to www.com-com.com)

word up.....

i'm out

peace

Name: QUIETSTORM
From: Hampton,VA representin'
E-Mail: spy1
July 18, 1998 at 18:46:31 (EDT)

yo yo...check it....

I close gates, seal walls, lock doors/
take breaths, crack windows, drop floors/

The soldier's-fate, no time to motivate/
No-escape, squeeze you till the shoulders-break/

Find the next soul-to-take, grow-fangs/
no-pain, rippin' heads off at close-range/

No skull, no-brain, in a bare-chest/
tear-flesh, with the mic, I could care-less/

The loaded-weapons, blow u to tha back with no-discretions/
hold-the-questions, the U.S. army can't control-my-presence/

Stories on how u roll-with-heat and load-the-street?/
While the devil put a down payment on your soul-to-keep/

And begins-the-back-breakin', corrupt sins-and-stack-taking/
Look into your eyes, now i see your gat-shakin'/

Your mind-is-bent, cause you neva use your Common-Sense/
your time-is-spent, locked without keys behind-the-fence/

Took off more-than-u-can-bite, ha yo, i win the war-without-a-fight/
break your sword-without-a-strike, crack the floor,-blow-out-the-mic/

Makin' plans throughout my city that neva concern-the-mayor/
learn-my-square, cause I make the devil turn-to-prayer/

Scorch-you, abort-you, The microphone cord around your
neck supports-you/ Then I Put an X on

your chest like a sword-do/, my eyes record-you/
distort-you, cause i'm forced-to/

NOW WHAT?
QS'98 signin' out...

if u want to hear my vocals on file..hit my email..i don't mind sendin' my stuff out....thanx for all those who voted for me before..much love
special thanx to Ayeisha for tellin' me about this...
peace

Name: QUIETSTORM
From: Hampton,VA
E-Mail: spy1
July 18, 1998 at 02:23:23 (EDT)

Last night:
go to www.com-mon.com n drop some lyrics on mictastrophe they say common even peeps that ish...if u want (i think u got the talent to beat some other mf... uknow)
ooh
word?
i'ma do that tomorrow if i have time...

The next morning afta class:

This is 4 those that chose-to-listen, I go-the-distance/
with cold-ambitions, while the devil chokes-the-system/

The mic's-possessed, I take out mc's from-right-to-left/
from-life-to-death, Shines from the sun-lights-my-steps/

Life's-a-test, you can tell by the way i paint-the-game/
It ain't-the-same, and too many n1ggas think-the-same/

I drink-the-pain, and swallow waters, I'm sinking ships/
by my finger-tips, on TV clown labels is singing-hits/

on makin-stacks, now the time has come to take-it-bak/
U fakin'-jax, n' now the time has come to face-the-faks/

and climb-boulders,the mind-focus, 4 my bronze-soldiers/
a'yo its,too many pimps, playas,thugs, and dime-holders/

Represent architectz, plus I got my target-set/
to your heart-like-a-tek, and i haven't started-yet/

I see-for-miles, inhale the wisdom, and breath-it-out/
teach-the-child, about the same system i speak-about/

Now ask yourself, 'Does god-exist,through da politics?'/
Gold watches? but they still don't know what time-it-is/

this goes out to U.E. IPN..all the way down to the N.O.V.A. scroll holdas...
peace..

QS

Name: Bishop
From: Brooklyn/NYC
E-Mail: appoc1
July 17, 1998 at 10:34:23 (EDT)

Honored to be At this Point of Position,
A simple Magnifestation,
Of Destination...
Be forwarned those who strike with hestitation,
Falls to Decapitation...
720 degrees of inflictions,
I know your moves before you know your own intentions,
So pay attention,
I may just tell you about your Militaries few infitrating henchmen,
They speak the dialect of a different dimension,
So many different plots.. to many to mention,
They all have one goal to destroy your Alliance's Sanctions,
It seems like sabatage,
Or a mere mirage,
An Illusion,
Causing Mass Confusion,
Mental Mind Intrusion,
Or maybe an Attempt at Spiritual Fusion,
The point is that you are losin',
Knowledge Found Its Way To Me By Deep Thoughts,
From every angle of the Universe From every Vessel's Ports,
Each Ship carries it's own crew of Wisdom,
Once Assembled...
it forms Deep Knowledge's Emblem,
Which will allow you to rule your own mental Kingdom...
I Can Over come others armies with out fighting which is the best of skill,
Hidden Talents summoned at will,
In case you havent noticed You Just been defeated with out a battle,
And Taken for your Mental Castle...

P.S. This Is To Show That Lyricists Can Reach All Depths Of The Universe... All Cultures... May I Be One Of The Many To Represent The World Of China... Peace N Respect...
Bishop

Name: MC Squared
From: AR
E-Mail: ewyles
July 16, 1998 at 23:04:12 (EDT)

As defined in one line by the mind of Einstein
Now I rhyme about how your kind relates to mine
My thoughts are flowin� fluidly, synapse to synapse
But perhaps your raps are in a permanent relapse
You�re movin� slowly, my rhymes are too quick for your ears
Cause my speed is measured per second in light years
I�ll keep bringin it to ya, till your lyricals wear out
And then challenge Medusa to some physical stare out
So think twice before you test my lyrical weapons
I�ve got the IQ to solve a Rubix Cube in 3 seconds
Going out to any emcee with no respect for me
Just give me a warning before you step to me
I�ll even the score and get a brainectomy
So that in this war, maybe you can F� wit me
Get your rhymes inked and be sure you double-checked �em
Cause MC Squared is just one Ray of the Spectrum

Name: Q
From: The Town
E-Mail: thahonorable
July 16, 1998 at 12:23:22 (EDT)

It's the young exquisite, pimp wiZARD
That could pull a woman' s diGITS
In the middle of a bliZARD
While sippin a mySTIC
LyRICS fluent as liQUID
Flowing through your county or disTRICT
And darin you to DISS IT
You'll come up shorter than miDGETS
Bending in a genuflexed posTION
My ammuniTION disrupts nervous sySTEMS
With superior wiSDOM
I'm givin' HERBS what they deSERVE
Line up like HERDS
And they'll get SERVED like hors-d'OEUVRES
My venomous wORDS mERGE
To form my mASTER thESIS
Like you bASTARD bEAST-ES
Bout to get shATERRED to pIECES
When my mind relEASES
TRUTH through my wisdom TOOTH
If you think you fly
Then jump out plane without a paraCHUTE
And when you hit the SURFACE
Maybe you'll see
That my VERSUS
Raise more hell than Satan WORshIPpers
When I declare WAR
On ANY and ALL
Fat skINNY or TALL
With the GAUL to BRAWL
And the reperTOIRE to SPAR
Cause praise be to ALLAH
You ain't never SAW nathin like this beFORE...

Name: AC
From: AR
E-Mail: stu2848
July 15, 1998 at 21:49:14 (EDT)

My lyrics burn ya like a vampire in broad daylight
And have you shook like an epileptic watchin a strobe light
Fierce enough to turn Cupid into the god of war
I crush dreams and make holy men have faith no more
I'm so bright that my shadow even glows in the dark
Squeezin' the mic tight enough to make it drip sparks
So hot I force the sun to go searchin' for shade
Slicin' up eardrums with my sonic razor blades
And when I pull out my pen I'm just like a hand grenade
Blowin' you away like Nazi's on D-Day
My words stick in your head like verbal throwing stars
Piercing your brain, leaving permanent scars
I'll do an Indian rain dance just to see the lightning
And do a bring-the-pain dance just to get MC's to fight me
Make you question your existence each and every time
You step into the squared circle to battle my rhymes
Don't need slurs or curse words to make a verse tight
I'm winnin' this battle 'cause it's not Demonz night

Name: Nigga#1
From: South Central
E-Mail:
July 15, 1998 at 13:48:35 (EDT)

FIRSTLY, my names Nigga#1 so change yo name up next time bitch. And fuck that shit about Common..........................I heard he sucked 'cock', not dick, hahahaha......

Name: ANonymouS (The Great Unknown)
From: Bronx
E-Mail: rug1
July 14, 1998 at 18:16:36 (EDT)

Eleven-oh-three-ninety-four,the birth.After your-arrival on-this earth,I faced-you skyward praised-you to-the most-high/Knowing through-your eyes I-would survive,visualizing-perfection/Your hidden-vision destined-within a father's-reflection/A physical-entity given to-me spiritually and mentally/Held-dearly and nurtured-correctly,the way divinity was-meant to-be/From strolling-your blue-Century,to your-first day-at elementary/Reading to-you from-novels on-an everyday basis/Awakening your-mind to-the many-races and-the world's different-places/Enlightening-your creativity to-the placement of rhyme-phrases/Helping-you embrace-intelligence,by holding-your hand through-the hot-sands of-development/At-the same-time watching-your greatest-accomplishments/As-you find-your path-to manhood through reconnaissance/All-the while-I keep-a steady-presence/To help-you decipher-the inner-lessons that-result in-excellence/Cause-the only measurement-at the-final blessing is-your essence/Manifested-at such-a young-age,so I-invest in-your adolescence/Time-well-spent with-my heaven-sent,during playground-activities/Teaching-him camaraderie,and how-to display-his capabilities/Diligently-helping him complete his-work consistently/Explaining-the parts-of movies-that base reality-on fantasy/Instill-you with-the religion-to make-proper decisions,in-order to-avoid fallacy/As-far as-the opposite-sex,teach you love-and respect/At-times you'll-find that-thin line ain't-a hundred percent/Be-hesitant,cause chasing-after complaisants can-leave your heart-vacant/Finding true-virtues within-one's self-requires patience/Search in-your soul-and you-will unfold a-foundation of infinite-structure/The wonders-you'll discover-are quite-like no other/Bound-with no-limits/As-I perceive-your life,what felt-like-years was-only some-odd minutes/Aroused-from a-dream in-the waiting-room at-the abortion-clinic/I put-a price on-your life,and already spent-it/
Rest In Peace To A Dream.

Name: Bishop
From: Brooklyn NYC
E-Mail: appoc1
July 14, 1998 at 13:46:08 (EDT)

I Agree/It does Seem like These MC's Are Suffering From A Disease/Called Anerexia/Where they are constantly Thinking That they're Phat/Why's That?/They put On This Hard Core Act/Talking Bout Bustin Lyrical Gacks/ If So I Touch Their Waste Line And Ask Where's It At?/Then They Have This Fetish Fantasy Of Rippin' Every Lyricist/ That Ever Exist/Now You Know To Even Think That Is Bull$h!t.../I Really Think After the First battle They should quit/because Some mental minds may have it.. But some just dont come equiped.../That's It/I Think I Should Warn You... There Is No Pressing Delete/ When your Thoughts begin to Deplete/ So Your Sentences better sound complete/Cause some MC just prive on the first Mistake/That will end your faith/So Next Time You Step In a Cypher Just think of the next Step You Make.../

Just Thought I Give My Insight To Those Who Dont Have Any Experience In the Freestyle World.... =o) And To Let All You Know This Was Freestyle... Peace To All My Asians... *hey why not?* Brooklyn NYC

Name: TONY COSTA
From: 121 ACADEMY
E-Mail: mr_costa
July 13, 1998 at 22:17:31 (EDT)

Enter TONY COSTA
The tightest rookie
The world has ever seen
Dip you in gasoline
Then attack you with flaming balls
Ignited by kerosene
I sweat valvoline
Cause inside I'm a furnace
The world�s dropouts burnt out
From trying to learn us
Burn us? Why?
I'm already ignited
Me without the mic is like
Poseidon without the trident
My mind hits harder than asteroids from space
I bring Armageddon and Deep Impact to any place
Plus niggas turncoat
When its time for me to rhyme
Have ya gay ass in the street skipping singing
"The Boy Is Mine"
So now I combine and bust lines
With an unfamiliar squad
Swinging the mic like a sword screaming
"Holy Jihad"
Conquering this site selling the weak to slave marts
Charging your crew like the Celts did in Braveheart
Everyday we gain momentum and
rally more troops
The Seventh Circle?
I'll give ya'll to my lil sis and her friends
To use as hoola hoops

Name: Midnight *( The silent assassin )*
From: the d ( im currently battling on ANonymouS' site )
E-Mail: thesilentone3
July 13, 1998 at 13:57:34 (EDT)

every now and then you come across certain types of girls that are not classified as bitches and hoes but labled as pearls...peep the thought!

as i think in my mind, i wonder if this girl fell upon me by design/ a true dime/ one worth a million rhymes from time to time i think of ways to make her mine/ this i rhyme easy, not being a softy/ but damn this is what im feeling see/ we were old school freinds, had a crush on her back then/ did'nt bother to express myself cause i did'nt think i would win/ had plenty of confidence/ just thought for her i would be irrelavant/ strike-out like game show contestants/ kiddy school was over highschool im gettin older/ senior year looked over my shoulder/ came across her again felt lucky like four-leaf clovers/ over and over, the thoughts came to mind/ maybe we could go out from time to time/ dodge the obstacles/ get with you and have a feeling of tropical/ topical, you and me i been thinking about lately/ much in common but not suave house and r&b/ baby thats all cool see, your a beautiful creature/ thinking with you exposes me to new ventures/ a sheeba doll winna with the hour-glass-figga/ other females your prettia-than/ tell me your status are you single or have a man/ if so then forget that bro/ come here to another brother/ a brother that'll perform unda pressure/ accept-this gesture/ you seem to understand me/ around you i can express feelings of any/ really do your thoughts match mine plenty/ or basicaly am i floating in a realm of unreality....

dedicated to shavonne ( and any other peeps who feel the same about their someone

Name: ANonymouS
From: Battles
E-Mail: rug1
July 13, 1998 at 02:20:32 (EDT)

SCHEDULE A BATTLE BETWEEN THE SEVENTH CIRCLE AND BLUNT VERSE MAESTRO, MIDNITE, TONY COSTA, AND DESERT DEMON. HAVE IT ON MY SITE SO THAT NO CHEATING WILL BE ALLOWED AND THE WINNER GETS THE GUSTO WHILE THE LOSER TAKES THE BACK AND DEALS WITH IT LIKE A MAN. ALL THIS BACK AND FORTH BEEF ISNT GONNA END UNLESS IT IS VOTED ON. I'LL POST THE BATTLE ON OTHER SITES AND GET PEOPLES RESPONSES SO THAT WE KNOW WHOS REALLY VOTING. IF YOUR WILLING TO PUT YOUR PRIDE ON THE LINE TO DECLARE YOURSELF AN MC HIT ME UP AT RUG1 LOVE IS LOVE

Name: TONY COSTA
From: 121 ACADEMY
E-Mail: mr_costa
July 12, 1998 at 18:59:19 (EDT)

Tony Costa went the calm route
Let the hostility cease
But sometimes you gotta go to war
To bring about peace
Nevertheless my combative nature
heads can vouch
Slap your ass so hard
The logo on your shirt will say ouch
Its time to grow, and when its time to flow
I leave your brain shocked and
your conscious like "I dunno?"
I flip MC's like flapjacks or gymnastics
New York Times ranked my notebook
As a classic
I go through seven dirty circles
Easier than Drano
Using Lava for Java
I drink outta volcano's
MC's on this site dropping ego's
Thinking Unite..The Demon, Maestro, Tony Costa
And Midnight...Grab your Mic
Join the fight those who I know is tight
Cause the recent incidents is far from right.
So Adapt to the NEW WEB ORDER or flee
Prepare yourself for
WORLD WIDE WEB WAR III

Name: midnight ( silent assassin )
From: detroit area ( the mastermold, micologist )
E-Mail: thesilentone3hotmail.com
July 12, 1998 at 01:06:47 (EDT)

circles are meant to be broken when their inner contents consist of nothin/ im not bluffin/ your marked for death so prepare your coffin/ your cheat technique to win is obsolete/ does'nt meet the criteria to cause mass histeria/ but excels in causing mad laughta/ that fits the personnel of a wack rappa/ you dissed the midnight/ but scared to come into the night/ battle me right/ dont rely on fellow group members for foresight/ i climbed your heights/ and have'nt left the ground yet/ bet that im'a reset your best into something less/ can you stand the test/ of the time-i last when i rhyme/ on the drop of dime i could have ya homeles sporting a will rap for food sign/ when ya rhyme you wine/ need to be straight dissolved like enzyme/ get choked in a bind/ have ya suffering blind/ not seeing me visualizing you on my scope too/ its true, your now locked in target/ the rhyme sargeant has ordered your execution urgent/ never mind the neatness/ its gonna be messy like giving birth to a fetes/ you cant believe this/ an assassin coming at you with thesis/ cant comprehend it cause ya-dont-have-the-intellect

Name: CAUSTIC RIMES
From: 121 ACADEMY
E-Mail: CAUSTIC121
July 11, 1998 at 15:24:18 (EDT)

I CAME HERE TO BATTLE, MY NIGGA TONY COSTA WAS FORCED TO BATTLE AGAINST THIS SHIT JUST BEFORE. WOULD THOSE RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS PLEASE STOP. YOU ARE WASTING VALUABLE SPACE FOR LYRICAL TRAINING.

GET A FUCKIN LIFE... AND POST RYHMES
NOT GAY ASS NURSERY RYHMES

AND IF WHAT IS IN THREADS IS TRUE....
BLUNT ... I AM CALLING YOU OUT

Name: TONY COSTA
From: 121 ACADEMY
E-Mail: mr_costa
July 10, 1998 at 23:37:21 (EDT)

I score on every drive like hookers with cars
Swinging the mic like a sword
throwing CD's like ninja stars
bizzare, much respect for the man that overthrows me
Bullests spray from the Dostovei, grinning,
smoking on a stogie
You know me, Tony, trying to be immortal
step into my portal
I dance when I kick ass like Eddy Gordo
plus I get niggas bent like BUD....WEIS....ER
Niggas stumbling through the streets be like
HE's....TIGHT....ER
I married knowledge fucked wisdom
And gave birth to genious
So I consider it a compliment when women say
I think with my penis
Told ya'll it COSTA lotta
you got insufficent funds
came to the area with a pistol
insufficent guns
COSTA runs imperial
overlooking the planet like the sun
I can afford to talk shit I represent the 121
Told ya'll it COSTA lotta
Better check ya balance
Cause to fuck with Tony Costa
COSTA lotta talents
You fuckin with the illest man alive dont get fried
It COSTA lotta and your loans been denied

Name: APOCALYPSE
From:
E-Mail: theseventhcircle
July 10, 1998 at 09:34:06 (EDT)

I'm burning with fury
which burns right through me
nigga getting mad now they wanna sue me
NIGGAZ you got fool me cuz the apocalypse is coming to bring a end to all life
multiplied twice
drop the dice
wit lyrics that's twice as nice let's see if anyone who can live up to the hype maestro your ass you need to wipe
cuz nigga, you stanking up the mic so where your ass at, we fighting mortal combat no time for anyone small talk or chat cuz I'm causing fatalities fucking up to reality, which is actually how verbally a destroy any nigga that wanna batte.

Name: BLUNT!!!!!!
From:
E-Mail:
July 10, 1998 at 09:18:34 (EDT)

Bitch nigga midnite
about to be slaughtered on the mic
lace your gloves and get ready for a fight
I'm uncanny, more glover than danny
cuz the situation is urgent wash you like lyrical dergernts
you say you the assassin, but you don't deserve it
you have to earn it
against the BLUNT!!!!!
Cuz I'll beat your ass in a heartbeat
so take a seat class is in session
here's today's lesson
never fuck with the seven circle
leave you ugly like whoopi in the color purple
you ain't shit but a little bitch
sucking off all these niggaz DICK!!!!
Who would have figured you faggot ass bitch
nigga you better scratch that itch!!!!
SO BEFORE YOU FUCK WITH ONE SUCH AS MYSELF
YOU BETTER KNOW THAT I'M HAZARDOUS TO YOUR HEALTH!
YOU BITCH MADE
NIGGAZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Name: dl
From: ny, ny
E-Mail: dl75
July 09, 1998 at 19:28:09 (EDT)

A yo, Im gonna bring it you rappers like you all cructhes
And i'm crazier then kids on those short yellow school buses.
Day after day my game grows like a fetus
To last against me you better pack a gun and walk with Jesus.
I get you hyper, on point like a sniper
I'm nasty like blowing your nose with a shitty diaper
Versatile and I can't stand smiling
Got youlike a fag at shower time on Rikers Island
DL, nigga holding down for the city
And i'll have you hard niggas singing, "I feel pretty"
You best believe you'll get a foot in your ass
I'm dangerous like cutting pussy hair with sharp broken glass
And I bounce like a mattress, quick like camera flashes
Stepping to me is like laying naked on some burning ashes
And you best believe i'll leave you stiff like gel
'cause i'm quick to kick your ass like your mom is quick to lick me well
Man, i'm larger than Nirvana when they rocking
And i'll still be the man if I wore a pair of pink stockings

Name: JoeKamel aka DstraughtThoughts
From: Hyde Park, Chi, IllaNoyZe
E-Mail: midwaymonsta
July 09, 1998 at 01:46:29 (EDT)

last year and for past years//we reminice as we pass beers//
laugh tears//evading bullets that they blast here//
cats eye gleam//triple team//to cripple schemes//
guillotine them Phillipines//thru use of deadly force//
of course//par for the course//double bogey scores//
got bodies droppin 20 floors//inner city tours//
on iron horse//devastate where ya meditate//
ending bellyaches//demonstrate hate//even when sober//
venomous cobra//serving mediocre cola//
via motorola//daily quota//smoke a quarter//
flood these corners like high waters//
piggyback attack gunclaps//stun cats in packs//
crack a philly//enjoying the Windy City//
pack ya strap//these gangs like frats//
lace verbatim//with slang gestation//county jail meditations//
reimburse retaliation//facing brutal fornication//
gravitating towards death//hold the last breath//
til the sabbath//stepladder to the ways of the savage//
wage warfare in praise of street habits//calmed by the THC balm//
flamed and in palm//thoughts be like psalms//blessing scripts//
spit like emptying clips//soak into thought patterns like LSD trips//
fluent//in the dialect of trauma units//where vital signs be truent//
along with critical fluids....

Name: MAESTRO CIPHER
From: DETROIT THE MASTERMOLD
E-Mail: MAESTRO27
July 08, 1998 at 20:51:41 (EDT)

I'm bringing fatal like the attraction
everytime I rhyme
there's equal but opposite reaction
I'm hitting more homer's than simpson
weapon more lethal than glover and gibson
just try to dodge
this lyrical barrage
you think you see the mic, but it's just a mirage
now watch me strike
my weapon is the mic
which will rip you apart
with these remarks that have jaws more ferocious than the great white shark
tongue is razor sharp
slicing mcees in half
causing blood baths
in the end I will get the last laugh
you better clear the path
beware the aftermath
you haven't seen the storm, this only a draft
I create it
you take it
then I remake it
just to let you know I was the first to say it
the first to play it
the first to complicate it
and a big diss to the first one to hate it
mcees try to bite and portray it
the world changed on the 12th of may
lyrical warfare is my forte
watch out for the melee
you got knocked down, are you okay?
When you around me, you better watch what you say
the mic is the key to unlock the mystery
which is never to fuck me
so when you encounter me
BITCH YOU BETTER FLEE!!!!!!!!

Name: Q
From: Tha Town
E-Mail: thahonorable
July 08, 1998 at 18:16:00 (EDT)

When I bless the apparatus/
I can make a fascist turn democratic/
Or convince a crack addict
To kick his habit.
So I'm knowing I can make/
Any half-hearted bastard/
Suffer wounds tragic
From the acid of my passage.
This young savage/ making pro appear average/
Have-' em- looking-like costume jewelry
Wit 2 Karats. Just decoration/
You-ain't-understanding who you facin'
When-I-start lacin'/
You courage shrivel like a raisin.
If I was Haitian/
I'd-chillin'- in Port-au-Prince/
Flippin' imported whips/
Hittin' them sorta chicks/
Wit unavoidable tits/
Cummin' royal wit this/
Watch me flush �em.
I think they got rabies I wouldn't touch �em.
Niggas be talkin' loud but ain't sayin nothin'/
We comin' through slummpin'
While you suckas is handcuffin'.
Double-or-Nothin'/
I'll eat you like English muffins/
And-if-you-think-I'm-bluffin'/
Come and catch a quick concussion!

Name: Krypton
From: Jersey
E-Mail:
July 08, 1998 at 12:13:42 (EDT)

Starin' out my window, it's 3 o'clock in the morning/Town's all asleep, the rain's steadily pouring/Can't hear nothin' but my pop's snoring/I just turned 18, can feel myself maturing/Being brought up in a place with no racial diversity/Thinkin' bout street life, it just occured to me/I may not be prepared for the real life/Sure I'm highly educated, but I don't know how to conceal a knife/Haven't been exposed to the cultures of the world/Wonder if it would be different to date a black girl/Being who I am, probably wouldn't cause a problem/But when situations get drastic, how will I solve'em/Different way of life, different culture, different religion/I know Christ but not Allah, what's the difference in 'em/It's true blacks and whites don't fully understand each other/But we are all made up of the same things, so why can't we be brothers/In order to make things right, there's gotta be unity/We need to mix all ethnicities in the same community/See race can only go so far/Everyone has the opportunity to become a star/Whether an athlete, a lawyer, a doctor or teacher/You can influence hundreds by becoming a preacher/Soup ya mind and try to better yourself/Racial harmony, education, religion are better than wealth/So let's make an effort to see eye to eye/What's the worst that could happen if we give peace a try?

Name: midnight ( silent assassin )
From: detroit
E-Mail:
July 07, 1998 at 23:47:59 (EDT)

liposuction is what happens when ya lyrics suffer from creativity deduction/ i suffer from accumalation/ which means lyrically i fit the accomadations/ i post statements like messages on billboards/ everywhere i go i snatch mic cords by the hoards/ no need to report/ i'll find you if you come up short/ of ryhme support, dont sell out by biting the next mans sport/ stupid, thats on the level of a dork/ pop the cork, elucidate my style if you can try/ its hard to magnify/ you could'nt choke it with a neck tie/ thats why, im untraceable, a secretive chap/ could'nt be pin-pointed if i was the only thing on a map/ never off gaurd not even when taking a nap/ its midnight right no need to turn on the lights/ i can see in the night/ put me on a stage and you wont see fright/ i come tight, more tight than a k-9's eyesight/ show no fear, in a junkyard i'll battle you draped in tuxedo gear/ and come out clean, like fresh mouths after listerien/ you'll need a vaccine after i transmit this desease in your bloodstream/ lyrically-hyperdermically shoot you up with infestation permanately/ then hit ya wit a style thats Dirty-and like Harry make your day/ with the rage i get cause i get more nuts then the candy bar payday/ i say, all trash belongs in bins/ therefore i put wack cats in RedRoofs cause their styles did'nt fit Inn/ its a Holiday when i ryhme similiar to 4th of July/ like fireworks, when shot out the mouth the lyrics light up the sky

Name: ANonymouS feat. DeePhunk
From: Strong Isle to the Bronx
E-Mail: rug1
July 07, 1998 at 13:24:46 (EDT)

DPH>Qualified-live/I try-to strive-for top-honors/Current-statistics state that-all losers turn-to goners/Unable-to withstand the-force of-this one hand/This man-is known-to swallow-lands like-quicksand/And/You-get this feelin' sometimes/You-always wonder/How I-keep takin' you under/Splittin'-men like-lumber/How can-you blame me?/Unstoppable/You can-only hope to contain-me/Slackin' with wack attacks/Feeble-attempts to drain-me/Get-wise or meet-your demise/I've seen-guys with my keen-eyes/My brain is-a strainer/Able to-hold truth and screen-lies/Careers livin' I'll dead-it/Ask me once I'll-say "I-SAID-IT!"/Findin' it-hard these-days to-control my sucker-destruction-fetish.

ANS>Deep in-the mind of-the eternal-darkness/Lies one-of the-hardest rap-artist on-the market/Target/Any-area,block,borough,vecinity,whatever/ Remove-you-from your-leather Harrera,and leave-your Mic-arm severed/Mentally and physically,reveal-all your-weakness/You claim-to see-this,but it'll-take you-a lifetime to complete-this/I freak-this,throughout-your frontlines/My rhymes-are cryptically-hidden/Imprisoning-the opposition with-these bars-I'm spitting/While-your missing-the mark-at pointblank-range/When it-comes to-rap,ain't a damn-thing-changed/I'm still-an atheist/Cause as-long-as I'm-around,another greater-lyricist will-never exist.

DPH>It's-amazin'/You-claimin' my-steez ain't-phasin' you/While-you couldn't catch-wreck if I-threw it-to you with Krazy-Glue/Off the-record/For-a second/Just learn-to accept I-get respected/"yeah-yeah-now-check-the-method"/My answer's-a message-if you-gimme-a chance-to bless-it/You couldn't-get FAME if-Debbie-Allen gave-you dance-lessons/You-ask why?/Stop-by if-you wanna act-fly/I rock-guys/Destroy-your-whole cipher and do-it again counter-clockwise.

ANS>Here-I-am/*Who-You-Be*/A.N.S.,manifest-as master-of the-ceremony/*Where-you-from*/The(G)reat (U)nknown(E)lemental(S)olar(S)ystem/The main-topic is-more-than profit,that's-why I-fraction weak-divisions/Flipping-mathematics from-the-attic with-pinpoint-precision/Constantly-ripping rap-compositions from-the-hands of individuals/Spitting-ballistic-decibels at incredible-levels/With-the mental of-a rebel-holding-metal stuck in-the ghetto/Taught-never-to settle, so-I keep-it-perpetual/The fact-that your-wack and-always-lose ain't-coincidental/I'll-shatter your-dentals and-have-you spilling-blood on-the rental/Incinerate-your pad-and-pencil leaving-your-fam with-no momentos/Have-them denying-your-whole-existence/Your-not built-to go-the distance,you-lack fitness/Test-this omnipotence,and-there'll-be one-less lyricist/I'm-closing the-final-chapter on-this rap-genesis.

Name: BAMA
From: wesssssidee!!!!!!!!!!!!
E-Mail: wack niggas on this site im too nice
July 07, 1998 at 09:21:02 (EDT)

fuck all u bitch ass niggas i aint even gonna waste my time battling, i just came to diss you dont get pissed boo so what i dissed u waste of my energy to write lyrics up here ALL YALL NIGGAS SUCK anyway so suck here. wesssssidde baby. we riding i just came to dis you im out niggas fuck the battle i aint gonna miss you

Name: WymaGirl
From: Bayside, NY ....QUEENS
E-Mail: wymagirl
July 06, 1998 at 22:09:40 (EDT)

Bitch Niggas listen up, a FEMALE'S bout to start dicing/I'm gonna give you an earful like Tyson/I Iron MIC's like apparel/shoot you outta the sky like sparrows/you fuck with this chick, and your remains get donated like bone marrow/more dynamic than an arrow, syncopated with the rhythm/my rhymes are so tight I string violins with em/so don't get mad, cause you've just been had by this scantily clad vixen/you get impeached like Nixon/I've got more tricks in my bag than copperfield ever had, so watch me dispel your secrets like the masked magician/I use a womans' intuition to sever the competition like ties/never been afraid to battle the guys/all on-cummers fall like Niagra/to get one up on Wyma, nigga, better take your Viagra.

What?!!What?!!

Name: LOGIC OF RBM
From: MIAMI
E-Mail: LOGICITY
July 06, 1998 at 09:11:34 (EDT)

I specialize like them guys that go between the thighs/
but this is HIP not porno movie where they POP it in the EYE/
VISION statment CLEAR just improvise your rhyme/
cause if not your gonna WATCH yourself catch it from behind/
and I know this kindda HERTZ but I'm trying to build an ENTERPRIZE/
you niggas THRIFTY with your rhymes like if you kids were on a BUDGET but fuck it/
I splack the rythem like an ANUS/
keeping you critical ASSHOLES flinching cause my SHIT is getting famous/
let me bring it round full circle so you all can realize/ agonize that in the art of rhyming I epitimize I specialize.

Name: MAESTRO CIPHER
From: THE D
E-Mail: maestro27
July 05, 1998 at 22:02:00 (EDT)

I'm tired of this game
but the seventh circle still remains
things unchange
but soon will rearranged
I'm already enraged
the mic's like an animal, so get it a cage
turn to the next page
who's on the stage?
Another wack mc trying to attack me
fool you better go home
you ain't no match for me on the microphone
you better watch a tone
I'm the maestro, you should've known
that I bury mics, like dog's bury bones
I can tell this won't last for long
you'll get a beating
as long as your boys stop cheating
so do the mathematics
I'm far above your status
change your tactics
nigga you need to practice
before you try to diss
your just a name added to the hit list
don't you get this
I'm like a time bomb ready to explode
have you croaking like a toad
switch modes
I'm still killing you on the microphone
in the end, I'll stand alone
I got the touch like midas
you can't deny this
Haven't you learned that I can't be burned
or turned
to the wackside
which you gladly provide
another lyrical homicide
and now you're boys are commiting suicide
it's the only way the know how to hide
from the lyrical storm
that's bring more rhymes that penthouse does porn
you slipped and fell, call you Larry Corn
I'm the one wearing the royal attire
you better call me sire
to all you faggots, there's a dick sucka for hire
and his name is Southern Cross
who's lyrical speech is false
my rhymes floss
shine like lip gloss
slammed you wit this lyrical hip toss
controlling my lyric spirit

Name: MAESTRO CIPHER
From:
E-Mail:
July 05, 1998 at 16:19:58 (EDT)

Niggaz wanna cheat me
cuz they know they can't defeat me
Demolition, your disgrace to this site
freeze motherfucka and drop the mic
the maestro has come to arrest you
I know you insecure cuz the seventh circle molested you
you better come equipped
or you'll get your ass whipped
time to move into motion
come in doors open
quit trying to deny your destiny
you never should have messed with me
now your doomed for all eternity
the maestro ciph is your worst nightmare plus infinity
never fuck with powerful entity
blowing niggaz up with my cosmic energy
You here my call
I'm ready to brawl
I'm suffering from competition withdrawl
so don't stall
I'll knock you all through walls
with these street fighter fireballs
I'm grim like the reaper
like brutus I got you in the sleeper
gone off like a beeper
ladies and gentleman, this one's keeper
I'm going to war
washing these niggaz to shore
never to be seen any more
roast you like marshmellows on smores
like an episode of copes, I'm kicking through doors
smoking your whores
the mic is releasing poisonous spores
who would guest it
but you infected
with the wack disease
that brings mcees to their knees
you can hear the scream
they're plead
now watch their eardrums bleed
traveling at light speed
you won't succeed
nigga please
don't give me the same slease you did last time
this time, actually try to rhyme
I saw you cheat, do you think I'm blind
now watch me bounce back
retract
how you gonna react
to my lyrical attack
causing more fatalities than mortal combat
I cut to the chase, with no chit chat
where your shit at
I'm gonna rope a dope
cuz I float like a butterfly sting like a bee
like ali
see you hiding in the trees
covered with leaves
ripping these, like the muscles of hercules
there's no chance you'll win
but all depends
if you cheat me
and if you do that, you'll never know if you could beat me

Name: DEMOLITION
From: THE SEVENTH CIRCLE
E-Mail:
July 05, 1998 at 15:16:22 (EDT)

I'm on the horizon. new terror be rising. on this microphone I be riding. Slipper as ice, so you be sliding. I'm here to challenge an mc named silent assassin, it's a simple request I'm askin'. Or I'll take on that bitch maestro who be draggin'......behind, I'm ready to rhyme. So let's get this shit started, and let's go at the same time. I real battle is what I had i mind. So anyone of you little shits, come on wit it. Cuz I'm the Demolition, fucking shit up is my mission. Have you wishing, that you were never born let's see if you can see through the storm, cuz I'm above the norm. Cuz I cause causalties mental fatalities, sadly, you'll be beating badly. There's a smile on face so I'm saying gladly. I want you to battle me. So Midnight, whatever the fuck you wanna call your self, get out and defend the name of wealth, I'm hazardous to your health. You won't see me coming because I'm stealth. Your mic, will be another collection on my shelf.

Name: NIGGAMORTIS
From: THE FOUNDATION CREW,BOSTON MASS
E-Mail: bigcel42
July 04, 1998 at 20:46:12 (EDT)

my RHYME stands in LINE FULFILL to STILL get CHECKS\
type TEXT to CATCH my WRECK and YET i still hit DECKS\
CASSETTE INSPECTOR-hittin SECTORS in your DIRECTION\
BLESSIN SESSIONS with the PRESENCE of my COMMON-SENSE RESURRECTION\
the 1st VERSE i drop WOULD be the BIRTH of my WORD\
in TURN the last i drop SHOULD be the WORST of my 1st\
the COMPLICATED CURSE of a REVERSE VERSE DELIVERY\
VIVIDLY see the picture when IMAGES MIMIC ME\
VERBAL WIZARDRY allows my DISAPPERANCE with the MIC\
SUPPOSIDLY yall niggas SCOPIN ME-HOLDIN a MIRROR to get SIGHT\
I LOTION THESE heated rhymes for WEAKENED MINDS that SPOKE TO ME\
MELADIN in my SKIN prevents a niggas SHINE from ROASTIN ME\
HOPEFULLY your as WORTHY as your READY
i'd be VERY glad to BURY an ADVISARY with a PEN and PAD and SNAG ya CHERRY(pussy!)
consider me the 1ST-DEFINEATLY not the LAST\
the BATTLE is DEPERSED\
my VERSE-WEAPONARY FOR THE TASK

Name: midnight ( silent assassin )
From: detroit
E-Mail:
July 04, 1998 at 10:52:37 (EDT)

i'll battle any mcee, produce an easy casualty/ eat em for lunch gobble em up quick like crunch n munch/ they dont have the utilities to handle my lyrical capabilities/ truthfully is what i speak on the daily/ actually these student mcees cant be part of my faculty/ im great like Gatsby/ casually have ya dangling from a Ciff like Mr. Huxtable/ like Nat King Cole i stay unforgetable/ dont get to comfortable/ battling me is unafordable/ with the alien forsight i remain phenomonal/ prefer to stay underground therefore im subliminal/ i'll jack your mic like criminal/ with it i'll blow you away like a whistle/ bend ya like the that golden gate bridge in Sanfrancisco/ rap sheets are the ricter scales that record the effects of my lyrical prevails/ similar to earthquakes when i crack the ground with my weight/ i'll repo/ the possetions of those with so-so flows/ dont try to hide in the back im a find the rat/ and collect mics like playas do stats/ writers block, in my mind is overlooked/ like pages of a book my thoughts overflow/ anti-retarded the opposite of being slow/ i grace when i make pressence/ the essence of that preference is that im immune to all neglagence/ pestilence get exterminated, when the over-populance suddenly becomes dominated

Name: Dee Phunk
From: Strong Island, NY
E-Mail: deephunk
July 04, 1998 at 01:18:59 (EDT)

Question authority / Respect my seniority / Seems like you're winning by a REAL QUICK majority / Battles that last too short need vote reports / Before you get contorted by my lastest verbal retort / You want competiton on your next mission, just ask it / I'll treat your ass like Mr. Miyagi's fence and just wax it / Shit gets drastic while you're shit gets spastic / Gather your stamina if you think you can outlast this / Your character causes laughter throughout my vicinity / Poppin' emcees like cherries losin' their battle virginity / Without proper protection / No question / Drop to their knees when / They get hit with some of these lyrical transmitted diseases / I withstood the HEAT while I was still in the kitchen / Stingin' likewounds / This calls for a stitchin' / Keep comin' back I'll have even more in store for you / Spittin' the writtens until I get bored with you / Get in your mental like Professor X when I flex / Whether straight or indirect / I catch wreck with whomever I select.

Name: HEAT
From: DA RAP DUNGEONS
E-Mail:
July 03, 1998 at 19:46:00 (EDT)

fuck rippin' tats from arms, i rip arms from sockets/shove ya homies remains up ya nose until i completely block it/your show, haha, 'I' bumrush it, 'I' rock it/and if they made a 10 ton mic i still wouldn't drop it/spittin' words so fast they wanna take a piss sample/to make sure and be certain that my veins aren't full/of that speed crap/that the opposition takes to try and avoid this wack emcee trap/and the only peeps that sleep on me are the ones who are always takin' a nap/in other words, the ones that like the shit that sounds wack/don't be mad at me just 'cos your bitch prefers sittin' on my lap/i got beats n rhymes, make words using letters from a to z/your rap is wack and the only beat you got was from me/when i came in here and beat yo ass for less than free/you should of known you cant shoot down someone with a bigger artillery/my verbal gat packs more rounds than the military/more rounds, more rounds than bowe went with holyfield/more rounds, more rounds than a gangster shoots when hes got the whole mafia to kill

Name: HEAT
From: DA RAP DUNGEONS
E-Mail:
July 03, 1998 at 14:40:48 (EDT)

once again its the hot-as-hell heat/ladies and gentlemen please take your seats, and watch this hot emcee perform lyrical miracles/nouns, words and multiple syllables/got y'all looking at my lines like their as important as those that are biblical/so let me get into gear and drop a phrophecy/something that's gonna happen backed up by mass philosophy/this is exactly how its gonna be/step up in here and let me slice ya vocal from ear to ear/don't wear the clothes but i still got no fear/im runnin up the front whilst your bringin up the rear/i'll do this in a minute, you couldn't get it done in years/mothafuckin disgrace/reach for my timbaland, strangle ya whole nation with a single shoe lace/knock you out cold, put you in ya right place/a sudden haze, is what you feel when you hit the deck/"is he dead", dont know, the inspectah ain't inspected him yet/you gave blood and tears, i didn't even break a sweat/i've had enough, i'll beat you/beat you 'til saddam hussain becomes nice/beat you, beat you 'til clinton stops fuckin everyone except his wife/beat you, beat you 'til gangbangers put down gats for knives/beat you, beat you 'til an immortal man loses his life

Name: CLOUT
From: EL EYE
E-Mail: NUCLEAR FAM
July 03, 1998 at 02:31:56 (EDT)

ANY MC WANNA BATTLE ME/ I BURN YOU UP LIKE RICHARD SIMMONS DO A CALORIE SO CALL THE CALVARY YOU LEFT A CASUALTY-IT'S LIKE I'M DINERO, MY STYLES JOE PESCI, AND YOUR STYLE TRIED TO EMBARASS ME/ A FOUL EMCEE KNOW NOTHIN BOUT NO POPULARITY BUT PRODUCE A STYLE YOU MIGHT LIKE/I GET TOGETHER WRACKS LIKE EXCITEBIKE-YOU JUMPED THE GUN AND CRASHED/FELL DOWN OFF THE PATH AND LOW YOU RUN ON GAS/PUT YA WHOLE ILL COME WIT HALF AND GAURANTEE YOU COME IN LAST/SO WHAT U GRAB THE GUN AND BLAST-I'M LAUGHIN AT U LIKE THAT LITTLE DOG IN DUCKHUNT-LETS PUT IT THIS WAY:IF HIP HOPS PRISON THEN U BE MY LITTLE BUTT PUNK, NOW CLEAN MY DRAWS/IT'S LIKE MC'S ARE CHILD MOLESTERS AND I BE MEAGHANS LAW-SPOTS GETTIN BLOWN UP/ ALL YOU LITTLE GIRLS PLEASE SIT DA FUCK DOWN CAUSE U FUCKIN WIT A GROWN UP/ 1 SHOT HAVE YA THROW'N UP/LYRICAL LIQUID/I SPIT IT THEN PIVOT/ U HALF STEP LIKE ONE LEGGED MIDGET/DIRT WEED GOT U LIFTED NOW U NEED BAYER/YOU KNOW IM NICER THATS WHY YOU USE MY RHYME AS YOUR SCREEN SAVER/

Name: HEAT
From: Da Rap Dungeons
E-Mail:
July 02, 1998 at 19:20:41 (EDT)

aint got a lotta time/but fuck it, the mic is mine/if they make rappin illegal then i'll get hit with a 100,000 dollar fine/i delve into the deepest corners of my mind to find a rhyme then hit the opposition right between the eyes leavin 'em blind/you think you can compete/boy i think not/you think the sun scorches/son im the one thats hot/the rappin chef puttin your remains in my pot/throwin out the left overs leavin em in the street to rot/a hip-hop king/forces come from within/cos if you gonna survive in this game you gots to always be lookin to win/and win i do/beatin each and every one of you/takin the toy mic from your hand and defeatin your whole crew/1 and 1 equals 2/thats me and the mic/rap all day every day from mornin til night/this rhyme is short/like your lifespan/sorry to end it here but the M-I-C will always be in my hand.

Name: midnight ( silent assassin ) IM BACK!!
From: DETROIT ( WAR TIME )
E-Mail:
July 02, 1998 at 13:12:16 (EDT)

Lets get ready to rumble/ so those cookie mcees must crumble/ blunt and apocalypse the un-humble/ like bumble/ i bee the one and only/ organizing the phony and shipping to another colony/ thats the stragey/ to watch these fools make fun of themselves like comedy/ you clowns need to retire/ im putting your bogus circus on fire/ watch your step fucking wit me is like trying to climb barbwire/ where ya ryhmes at to counteract/ the contact i make to ya head like louiseville bats/ thats a fact/ and you two jacks must step back/ bow down to the king as i rip you out the seem/ dont bother trying to come clean/ yall forever stained like stone-washed jeans/ dissing the maestro was a risky stunt/ did'nt know he had the assistance that'll smoke you quick like five cats on a blount/ i got you caught in my shadows of midnight/ you scared like fright/ does'nt look like your night/ hop on a plane and take flight/ thats not right/ the assassin erases the target with no despite/ now the wars on/ me and maestro back to back like clones/ denting your dome/ bringing a notice of eviction to that mind called home

Name: NIGGAMORTIS
From: THE FOUNDATION CREW(boston,mass)
E-Mail: bigcel42
July 02, 1998 at 01:30:03 (EDT)

LONG TIME NO SEE MY NIGGAS.

the way my raps INTERPRETATED\
DISPERSE a VERSE thats STATED\
i CLOSE the CURTAIN if a CERTAIN SERPENT HATES IT\
DEBATED with the GREATEST PRESIDENTS\
a RESIDENT\
locking niggas down like EVIDENCE-AGAINST YOU\ im SENT TO\
murder through the lead of a PENCIL\
with MENTAL-VOLOCITY if its HOT its GOTS to be ME/
the "ODDESSY of what TRUE mc ARTISTRY OUGHT TO BE"\
i SPOT you then READ,you plagirism BOTHERS ME\fuck friday-- thank GOD ITS ME\
my MIND is my BUSINESS\i FIND most of you kids UNEQUIPTED with the GIFT like JEWISH KIDS AT CHRISTMAS\i keep my DISTANCE from you rap IMPERSONATORS\
talking about you flip shit,u just REVERSE your VERSE for LATER\
fuck you PLAYAS im a PERSON HATER\
DESPERSIN DATA\ BETA computer downloading virus HURTIN u LATER\
infestation OUTTA CONTROL fuck the closet im coming OUTTA THE HOLE\
underground on good behavior LYRICAL BIRTH CONTROL.

if you dont understand-- overstand

Name: MAESTRO CIPHER
From: YOU KNOW WHERE
E-Mail:
July 01, 1998 at 19:26:56 (EDT)

Catch a glimpse
I shut you off like a solar eclipse
watch the script flip
firing more rounds than a clip
I took care of blunt, now it's your turn
to learn,
I worthy opponent, is what I yearn
talking all that shit, you seem concerned
don't touch the mic, cuz you might get burned
So Blunt passed the torched
I'm ready to scorch
this is my house, so get off my porch
Apocalypse, you just another hurdle
you can't breath, now your skin is turning purple
now who is the seventh circle?
a couple faggots
stinking to dick like a magnet
you just fell into the dragnet
now the stage is set
you can beat me, oh yeah, wanna bet
You dare enter my atmosphere
invade my lair
I'm hungry, I'm glad you here
I wanna jet like lear
but I wanna let ya
look behind ya, cuz I'm gonna get ya
then I'll set ya
on fire
weak ass bitch, you better retire
you only here, cuz you let in
you the apocalypse, well I'm armageddon
the day you been dreadin'
watch direction are you headin'
the sun is settin'
and so his life
here come the grim reaper, swinging his scythe
your in for a strife
a fight for your life
wit the maestro ciph
I'm ready to battle
the mic is my horse, and I hopped on the sattle
raising lyricsl like cattle
prepare to get rattled
by this lyrical massacre
your ass is mine
cuz I'm your punisher.

Name: MAESTRO CIPHER
From: D
E-Mail: maestro27
July 01, 1998 at 10:55:10 (EDT)

It's armageddon
the lyrics mcees are dreadin'
cuz I be threadin'
devastating rhymes
that blow your mind
transform like optimus prime
just call me Doctor rhymestein
and when I'm on the mic, that means your ass is mine
it's a thin line
between the tite and wack
you didn't control it, so step back
and watch a maestro in action
bringing it down from the crowd's satisfaction
Blunt you just a distraction
not even worth my time
cuz you can't rhyme
so stop trying it
cuz I ain't buying it
you a frozen mc trying to defrost
to late cuz you already lost
blown away by this lyrical holocaust
the cipher the one to destroy your brain
and when I'm done, you'll never be the same
you a low down dirty shame
you should have never came
let me explain
cuz rain, on your parade
enough of this sharade
I just uncovered the masquerade
so get boy, I'm ready to throw down
but I don't see you around
so come on wit it
I'm ready to give it
you say you're a mc, just try to live it
These lyrics are too hard for you to dicipher, it's time to pay the piper
you just meet death at the hands of the Maestro Cipher!

Name: Demmillion
From: LA by way of Milwaukee
E-Mail: demmillion
June 30, 1998 at 18:18:35 (EDT)

tongue lash like sword slash decapitate the wack or bash/
like morningstar crowns I smash dent in the heads of wannabe kings rocking more ice than mics/
with my lyric device I sling deadly projectiles at the likes/
wild style spraying like graffiti I can/
while others sputter like empty aerosol blasting gas/
but saying nothing again/
when they fake their moves against me/
they tempt me/
when they renege on peace treaties/
after finding allies in an attempt to defeat me/
but a whole army of half assed Versacci MC's/
and un-trained Soldiers couldn't beat me/
I burn the perms off of Big Willie parodies/
more plastic than Big Worm who try to step to me/
On Friday/
or Saturdqy or Sunday/
Wednesday Thursday or Monday/
and even make Tuesday into a bruiseday/
a wack MC finds himself in a nooseday/
instead of going out like God did/
in the beginning kid.../
I never take a rest from catching wreck/
when there's an MC deserving a broke neck/
with a mic I flex until they give me respect/
then I hand it to the crowd and ask who's up next/
to be perplexed then body-slammed with complex/
flows serving rivals causing there women to step/
with regret for the day they ever met such patheticness.

Name: YYGUY
From: Hbg, PA
E-Mail:
June 30, 1998 at 11:35:07 (EDT)

My mind rides the tide of obnoxiousness and serenity ,
Like when people sell their souls to gain material ammenities.
This life is forsaken, so prepare to meet your maker,
No designer label on my cranium, so who's the next partaker?
In this transitory life we wallow in self subjegation,
Blamin' other people for our mental mutilation.
I see the light at the end of the tunnel, it blinds my vision.
It's the train of reality I can't avoid collision.
Now my brain has an incision, I look for the solution,
Can't identify the problem, who the hell I think I'm foolin'?
Jelousy, hatred, and anger cloud rationality,
Mental suicide, because my mindstate's feeling callously.
I can't take the pressure, thoughts flow in all directions,
Without direction, the situation takes a new complexion.
Is it my fault I want the finer things in life ?
Struggle to struggle when strife leads to more strife?
I'm in a cycle that 's unforgiving and cruelly repetitious,
So I lash out at blindly, but is my enemy ficticious?
I gotta make an assesment is it happiness or wealth?
Then I finally realize --my worst enemy's MYSELF

Name: TONY COSTA
From: 121 ACADEMY
E-Mail: mr_costa
June 29, 1998 at 20:58:48 (EDT)

ENVISIONING GREATNESS I SMELL THE SHARP STENCH OF CONFUSION
TROPHY IN HAND, TRUIMPHANT I TASTE ILLUSION
MY LIFE IS A SERIES OF U-TURNS I STAND SPINNING
FEELING LIKE THE END, YET I STARE EMPHATICALLY AT THE BEGINING
I CHASE MYSELF DAILY DOWN THE HALLS OF LIFE AND REALITY
PRAISED BY FANTASY AND CHASTISED BY ACTUALLITY
THIS MOLECULAR SYSTEM WITH A NAME REMAINS UNDEFINED... INSECURE
I EAVESDROP ON CONVERSATIONS BETWEEN MY HEART AND MY MIND
I FIND CONFRONTATION THEY NEVER AGREE
AND THIS ORGANIC CIVAL WAR IS SLOWLY DESTROYING ME.
I FELL ASLEEP LAST NIGHT MY NOTEBOOK IN MY ARMS
ITS THAT BINDED PAPER THAT KEEPS ME FROM SETTING OFF MENTAL ALARMS
CONFUSED I SHOULD HAVE SEARCHED MY HEART
CAUSE THE INSTRUCTIONS WERE WRITTEN RIGHT THERE ON MY HEART
BUT INSTEAD I WAS MISLEAD BY FOLLOWING MY HEAD
AND DAY AFTER DAY MY MENTALITY HAS BLED
NIGHTMARES OF ISOLATION AND LONLINESS OCCUPY ME AND PLEAS TO THE GATEKEEPERS OF EMOTION DENY ME
YET AND STILL I CONTINUE TO THINK
I HATE SEEING REALITY ... I AM ONLY HAPPY WHEN I BLINK

Name: ANonymouS
From: Bronx
E-Mail: rug1
June 29, 1998 at 16:32:11 (EDT)

From playing with Transformers to finally transform/
From a boy to a man without getting caught in the storm/
I remain calm and keep my faith in the Bible and Koran/
Thinking about the loved ones that�s now gone/
But I stand strong throughout the thick and the thin/
Refuse to lose the only way to improve is to win/
Lying to the priest scared to confess my sins/
Not knowing if Jehoba was actually witnessing/
From what�s written within religious scriptures/
Coincide with my mental thoughts to create vivid pictures/
Of my niggas living plush in the heavens up above/
To my enemies no longer a grudge now able to show love/
Whether I�m right or wrong I seek the lesson involved/
Trying not to retreat behind guns that revolve/
In order to problem solve, what was once hidden/
I sink to my knees and look up to thank God I�m still living.

Name: MAESTRO CIPHER
From: THE D
E-Mail: check the scroll
June 29, 1998 at 13:19:31 (EDT)

You dare fuck wit the lyrical destruction
the maestro ciph cause your ass to malfunction.
Killing your brain wit this conjuctions
it's an assumption
bitch you better think of somethin'
just face it
you can't make it
cannot create a rhyme, so you just take it
but I'm far from done wit your punk ass
better be on the look out cuz this rhyme won't be the last
cuz I'm creatin' mass hysteria
fucking up the area
giving more infections than poisonous bacteria
I'm gonna drop like the atomic bomb
try to stay calm
cuz I can read your mind like psychics read palms.
The Cipher is not the one to fuck wit
cuz I don't take shit, you'll learn that quick
maybe it'll just come to you when you're jerking your dick
you BITCH!
I'm uncanny
you don't fit like hulk hogan in mr.nanny
Blunt you weak
don't even try to speak
just to reframe
from the game
cuz when this battle is over
I'm gonna piss on your GRAVE!

Name: nilotic
From: city of wind-- LL--ode to a bitch
E-Mail: illnois
June 29, 1998 at 11:57:21 (EDT)

LL u call me uncle/ lick them lips again and get dealt wit belt buckles/claimin legendary/ legend's airy/ u fairy hoe/ new Jack stepped up-- and u played the Jill role/ i mean--- can I bust a nut on your face/ like other up and cummin rappers portrayin u in lace/the next time u rap/ forget about the claps/ if the audience was me/ u get a ovation of slaps/ and a encore to boo and bruise some more/ get off the stage/ my pent up rage/ got your knot sore/ and when i through/ your restricted to block tours/ rock the playground and out flowthe youngstas/ build up ya confidence and outdrow the punk stuff/ (like) pink cookies in a plastic bag?/(pause) weak hook u fuckin fag i laughed/ tossin yo records like a rap audit/ ALL wack shit out the closet/ 14 shots to the dome-- yeah i admit i bought it/ admit u wrote it/ and your argument is over bitch/ krs may trip/ and rakim might've slipped/ but u L fell off a bridge into the river SHIT/ and now u rockin FUBU leathers?/ For U By U--would be bitch tailored pleather/ sleeves trimmed wit feathers/ i know u copped it/ i saw u rock it/ wit a avirex g-string wit rhinestones on the cockpit/ victim of arson/ cuz i got the hot shit/ set a fire to queens pissin on ya carpet/ burnin your throat is the only kind of contact/ im a have wit u and then i want my come back/ try to take it to ya lab and make a clone/ to feed u lyrics/ attempts to fuel your microphone/ I know u'd like to go/ to the cavern where the savage mic is grown/ but thats my home/ and i make it known/ its off limits/ to the soft gimmicks/ of rappers in need of retirement/ collect your pension and cry on it/ cuz aint no money here/ for lyrically unclear/ rhythmically queer/ faggot rappers steadily lip lickin/ to ease the dick in--
nilOtic

Name: ANonymouS
From: Bronx
E-Mail: rug1
June 29, 1998 at 04:40:28 (EDT)

--------------THE MASTERPIECE-------------

It all starts with two hearts deciding to sin/another ritual begins/skin on skin being sold/wild thoughts unfold/while stars explode forming black holes/but as religion told/the story grows cold/as faith takes its course/thrown down and forced/at all cost/her world is lost/witnessed the source/through Gods eyes divorced/from created slaves/filling spaded graves/made in haste/her death faced/as murderous lines assasinate/while she waits/her fate has been read/her eyes bleed dread/from words bred/to proceed like disease spread/trying to get ahead/but falling fast/reading paragraphs from her epitats/her will shatters like glass/bear ass taking flights/with pipes into dark night/feeling tight until left/her strangled breaths/rise as her breasts get caressed/her body molest and seeks rest/within a kiss/her dark abyss/gets pierced and cease to exist/falling to desire/and prior to her hellfire/she left a burnt empire/new soldiers for hire/found drowned in her mire/by their torn boats/scribes with slit throats/looked choked/while ghosts rise/mystery cloaked between thighs/her lies were pledged/with a knife double edged/she seeks vengence by fucking penance/death sentenced/trapping genocide between arrogance and pride/she leads crusades to suicide/with fuedal trials/her whole style changed/now deranged/she lays blame on God for his devices/screwing raw leaving sacrifices/sexing unprotected/all the while knowing she was infected.
(THINK-ABOUT-IT)

Name: TONY COSTA
From: 121 Academy
E-Mail: mr_costa
June 28, 1998 at 20:01:30 (EDT)

(DEDICATED TO THE BLACK WOMAN)
Time is all you have but you choose to waste it
Mind and soul is precious i observe as you deface it
You feel complacent treating your body as less than sacred
Thats how you make it,living life half naked
But its your life I cant change or take it
Funny how shit change from the time you were created
Fiending for love attention plus affection
Think niggas love you cause for you they get erections
Abandon protection, down go the barriors
As you spread your legs for potential disease carriors ... Situations major
Appualled by your behavior
Cause every nigga that smile you treat em like your savior
Break you down then defeat you
Get drunk and beat you
Get horney then apologize for the way he treat you
But I aint GOD so judging you I avoid it
In retrospect remorseful of the women I've exploited ... you make me wonder
If that aint you better find that bitch and confront her ... cause no man in his right mind is gonna want her

Name: midnight ( silent assassin )
From: detroit
E-Mail: thesilentone3
June 28, 1998 at 08:39:33 (EDT)

its midnight/ most dangerous when the clock strikes/ in dim light i evolve into spector form/ more srtanga than thunda & lightning without the storm/ so ghostly make casper seem below the norm/ on some jackle and hyde shit i switch to my alias/ silent assassin the miscalanious/ immortalized like highlander/ through time i sported many disguise/ i'll never meet my demise/ my lyrics from the past are better than ones in the near future/ prophetical teacher giving knowledge to nuture/ many of sorts thought me they could abort/ but came up short/ not knowing i was sentenced to ressurrection in the court/ conjuring lyrics like indians do spirits/ marinating microphones with words from the dome/ like ancient ruins i Rome/ life traveling in my nomadic zone/ cant be hampered by trials and tribulation/ cause i take it easy like vacation/ my ryhme abomination makes it hard for mcees to perform their occupation/ tune in to this station, cause my episode, in relation will make wack shit go back to the commode/ i take upspace like space/ any property vandels i'll be on the case/ so call me perry mason/ i'll deport illegal raps like hations/ get took back to cuba/ i took you as a fool and played you like a tuba/ battling me you need gear something like scuba/ cause i'll take you deep/ placing you in a eternal sleep

Name: nilotic
From: ill chi
E-Mail: illnois
June 27, 1998 at 18:29:57 (EDT)

I pee nut-- and butter what u thought was a jam/ spice these ham ass rappers--bacon em like sand/on black beaches/my reach is impossible to grasp/ infinite/heaven sent/ like testaments/ fed expressed/ lyrical gift/rap present/ to be the future of the past/ wack is over/drunk and sober/combine these states of mind/ inclined to rhyme/ in inclement weather/ brain stormin till whenever/ flood your lungs/ then boil your blood as lightning strikes from the nether regions of my faculties/ results from chemistry/ negative reality clashing with positive imagery/ you on a trip with me/ returning in the year three g/ cause that's how long takes for you to comprehend the mystery/ of how I grip the m-i-c/ and turned it in the lock to key/ the long time hidden legacy of African's as royalty/ ruling every category/ of civilized accomplishment/ craddled man and rocked him well to realize that God is him/ not separated from within/ but everywhere and in his limbs/ cause God force built the pyramids/ and God force wrote these words I GIVE/ you as a lesson/ LIVE these thoughts professed/ and witness/kemetic methods adapted to mic sections/ the nexus/ rhymes is siruis B/ outshining furious G's/ who be curiously engaging in self destruction/ erasing your elf production/ adjacent with midget flows/ I'm plucking these chicken heads straight down to they pidgeon toes/ lyrics is out of shape/ I'ma give you the chuck mule/ for running on tracks with me/ I'm alarming you niggas snooze/ and prominent on every inhabited continent/ nowhere for you to run wherever you hide I'm bombin it/ these vets get done like Nam and shit/ rap weld/ shrapnel-- mic metal bonds with skin/ can't notify your next of kin/ my verbal victim last weekend/ stuck em for his cash and gin/ then struck em/ iron fist and brass knuckles/ as i flash the grin/ poetics past the sin/ into straight sacrilege/ blasphemale rappers holdin mics cause they slapped some skins/ yo it takes more than that/ i slap the shorty back/ you cant come forward/ till you get your rhymes in order
SMACK`---jus a taste

Name: y b average
From: oppressed mines of tha past
E-Mail: tha youth got it lock
June 27, 1998 at 03:56:02 (EDT)

Warriors come out and play

Nah they musta kill syrus/i cause more deaths then the abola virus/emphasizen that fact that yall combat witha text attack/555-5555 call me back/nah didn't think so/ you lack tha skillz cuz you think slow/the difference between mine and yourz/i do this for tha love/you spit for applause/financial solutions/ this ain't western union/this battlen here ta me it don't really matter who win/i'm only 15 and i'm still represntin/spitin at compettion like it was another impossible mission/

Name: midnight ( silent assassin )
From: detroit
E-Mail:
June 26, 1998 at 21:38:45 (EDT)

when it rains it pours/ that phrase explains my style when it explores/ng many doors- traveling through a cosmic course/ not knowing its destination/ remains undercover like alien investigation/ it recieves intergestion when planets become victims of its manisfestation/ science cant explain it/ mcee's cant comprehend it/ not able to be seen- its invisable like undetectable/ a healthy breed like thoroughbreads out the stable/ its a just cause/ only right my style lays down laws/ other styles are held in captivity/ performing slavery in my proximity/ no freedom clause here/ not a way to get out anywhere/ you can run for a year/ the style will catch you when shifted to infinite gear/ dont shed a tear/ i'll try to be sincere/ before you step- think about your fate/ have you rapped a good enough life to reach those pearly white gates/ debate the stunts before you arrive to my circumfrunce/ there's no reassurance when trying to hang wit my endurance

Name: APATHY THE ALIEN TONGUE
From: NYC+CT
E-Mail: alientongue
June 26, 1998 at 18:08:24 (EDT)

I'm about to put you on like drawers after sex,
Scratch and cut wax like Funkmaster Flex,
Ap infects brains and breaks the cortex,
I STRETCH my ARMSTRONG to flex my forceps,
Got youlike Stargates or Vortex,
I run fast and pass black Ac's and Corvettes,
pass black cassettes to rap record execs,
then get set to invest funds and cash checks,
Is Ap really Raw? just ask my ex
I write WHOLE TRACKS to diss those who disrespect,
Or i'll call up ya house get LOUD and BUCKWILD!
If you hang Up, I'l press redial and FREESTYLE!!!

Name: midnight ( silent assassin)
From: detroit
E-Mail:
June 26, 1998 at 12:32:26 (EDT)

pardon me/ as i interrupt like technical difficulties/ styles hard to copy like caligraphy/ im absolutely/ on a level with the Roots when i cause distortion to static/ its a habit when i attain major credits when dropping the topics/ whether scientific like rockets/ or politcal like democtratics/ i get my point across but stay hidden like microscopic/ plot plan like architects on which spot to wreck next/ invade a mansion and stick rich folks for they checks/ competition blow steam like sauna/ i make that ass hot like Mike Jack's fatha/ bet ya bottom dolla/ that i could collect smarts like scholla/ when passion exceedes could make the quietest girl holla/ my mark opposition will wear/ pull the fear out of em like ghostriders penance stare/ a double dare means two deaths there/ no longer standing tall foes seated like chair/ listening as i explain facts of life like Blair/ cant be damaged my healing factor will repair me to a better image/ from the line of scrimmage i crush all in less than 60 minutes/ causing malfunction/ to the mainframe of cats i have immagrating like russian

Name: MC Squared
From: Lamar, AR
E-Mail: stu2859
June 26, 1998 at 02:18:42 (EDT)

Blowin� up like dynamite on the mic
Turn daylight to night 10 seconds after my fuse lights
I stand in the spotlight and glow bright
While your mind�s half as bright as a blacklight
Now kill your chatterin, Squared�s the batter and
I swing with the force to get your eardrum shatterin�
You fallin so hard we�ll see your insides splatterin�
Who you wanna battle? Squared�s not the one
For every 9 rhymes you spit kid I�ll flip 81
I�ll let you go on, verse after verse
I�ll pick out your best rhyme and beat it with my worst
Whip your style up without a minute to rehearse
I could even tear it up if I had one lung burst
Have you blacked out, yellin for a nurse
While that rhyme that you spit is leavin in a hearse
To those that wanna step up, I�m askin �who�s first?�
My style will haunt your mentality like a curse
Cause like Com� Sense and Canibus your nightmare squared
I�m squared your nightmare so best beware

Name: Andres"Strech"Urbina
From: Coconut Creek,Florida
E-Mail: Murbina
June 25, 1998 at 20:44:06 (EDT)

Yo! my foes get frozen on the border line 'cause thre's more to rhymes than holdin 9's and placin' mines and all the times i would of sold by the signs cheap but now i know which one's are free and which ones to keep by now niggas know not to sleep cuz should you give up your dream cuz you awaken to the streets, every day i lay back and ask myself what am i willing to do to emass this wealth and once i get how long will it last and you can forget it if you think the world's all about the cash , give me property and industry monopoloy string a philosophy knowledge beyond socrates posibly you got a similar dream it's a familiar scene a general drilling his team, as good as it seems the warfare has changed and i can conquer the world with couple billions in change, and this feeling is strange. (i think the earth might be shifting in our favor bound to happen sooner or later)word up!

Name: ANonymouS
From: Bronx
E-Mail: rug1
June 25, 1998 at 14:45:19 (EDT)

Keep your dimes/I�m cashing-in quarter-daughters quicker-than you-can register/This iller-mister strips-a-sister playboy-style like Hugh-Heffner/On the regular/Better-than your-best/With-finesse bless-the opposite-sex with-the Benedict/Rivers run-thick when-I stab the-fish with-the licorice/Stick and move then switch-pitch and crush-grove/Like-the early-eighties,tagging ladies like train-graffiti/Show-hoes for doe,bitch,stop being greedy/Thinking you-can read-me like palms/your-mouth and catch-this lip-balm/Deading your broke-ass with no s�ance/Player,play-on/With-no qualms I-select the-most appealing/Wheeling and dealing/Let her-work my stick-shift four-a-run like Toyota, Oh-what-a feeling/Shorties-kneeling left-revealing their private-parts like Howard-Stern/I never-flex unprotect,cause like Betty-X,I ain�t trying to-get burned/So take-a-turn and �smoke-this-pipe-like-Bob-Marley�/And let this Cuban-Link slash-Bacardi rock your body till-the after-party/Between-the linens steady-swinging keeping-it tied while-inside going-for extra-innings/Heads-spinning like Linda-Blair handle my-affairs with-care/Let-her fix-her hair, then bump the fuck-up out-of there/Staying aware of-the Jackme�s and those-saucy acting-costly/On a low monthly,rather stay-up then-down,leave the tasters-choice to coffee/So back up-off me, if you ain�t-ready and willing/To let-a nigga get-in where he fit-in/Leaving virgins baby-sitting, but once the chicken is ripe for the sticking/It�s guaranteed before she-bleeds she�ll be finger-licking/It�s easy picking,I�m into all shades,a jack of all trades/Quick to stay-paid with no charades/Equiped for every escapade,with an extra-pair of handcuffs if the bitch misbehave.

(LATELY TO MUCH BULLSHIT IS CLUTTERING UP THE ARENA, IT NEEDS TO STOP)

Name: ZEXEC
From: NY.TN
E-Mail:
June 25, 1998 at 10:52:14 (EDT)

yeah, seemz like i've been here before//
saw about 4, fall to da floor//
claimin da talent iz hardcore// kid, i'm
lookin for dat raw/da blazin hot metaphor/
dat-make-me-high-type-a-joint,
dat be makin up da law/
but so far, ma bak iz covered by no showz/
an dub hoes//spit a lik & spark dat tip,
and anything goes/
dem type a bitchez,
git in da way of ma fast lane//
keep callin ma name//
jerk da jammy and make it rain/
and mid-level gamblaz holdin micz like itz somethin new// git a crew//
for security like da boyz in blue/
but eyez, capsizes infultratin war shipz wit red tipz and blaze ripz//
black suited//in a room, skunk polluted/
revin off lyrical fluid,
ta make ya shi! diluted/
pump da fis, not 4 victory, but 4 rivalry/
comin for me/
be lovin every minute like graciously//
givin nigaz seizurez repeatedly/
so I, whisper in da dark before da sparkle lightz, ta hear voices shiver/
oh yeah, I deliver..
da 4th of july type-hype & clip day liver/
cause they say dat liver makes da blood clot// whatchu need it for!?
ZEXEC makes da spot hot & what not//
now wherez ya fellaz wit da collabo supposedly recitin raw//
kid, dis iz war//
check behind ma door//you'll find 40 more/

PeACE
Out
Can I git some DAp
ZEXEC

Name: ANonymouS
From: Bronx
E-Mail: rug1
June 24, 1998 at 20:29:37 (EDT)

Strictly Porto Rock slash Cuban Link slash Original/
Enslaving your lyrical putting paragraphs in critical/
Your shits minimal, plus you don�t have the essential material/
It�s pitiful how you test my elements, it�s natural/
And if you�re a teacher, go on sabbatical/
I keep it actual, so when you question my life, be careful/
Cause in all seriousness, there�s no need to embellish experience/
My deliverance in the God sense is old school like past tense/
The only time you could shine was in my absence/
My spot ain�t getting touched like I relied on abstinence/
Truthfully your wack ass isn�t equipped to battle me lyrically/
Fucking with the hieroglyphic linguistics, that caused more statistics than Auto-Immune Deficiency/
My delivery leaves rappers in medical facilities/
With deadly abilities stemming from the Bruckner vicinity/
Fully loaded heavy mental, defending my throne with perpetual credentials/
While your imbecile style is quite edible and inconsequential/
In other words you mean nothing to me, so absorb your first lesson/
I�m absolutely, definitely, and completely the nicest, Any Questions.

Name: DJ Scooter Feat. ANonymouS
From: Chicago to the Bronx
E-Mail: rug1
June 24, 1998 at 15:03:36 (EDT)

ANS>Redrum;reciprocating-manslaughter on those lyric-hating/Testing-my patience,unprepared for-this confrontation/My foundation-is fortified with heavy-concentration/With double-twins blazing at-any nigga chasing/After-my position/My coalitions-steady ripping your compositions/Any-nigga under-my jurisdiction�s catching verbal-abolition/I pose-it as-a simple juxtaposition;me lyrically-against your faggot-opposition/So-stop your dissing,I can�t-imagine any-type-of comparisons/So if-you want-to go-to war;bring-your squad to-my garrison/Which remains in-the heart of-the Bronx;right-off the Bruckner/These stupid-DeVry brothers/Still-ain�t got-shit to-say like C-Dolores-Tucker/Cause after-me motherfucka;their-will never-be another.

DJS>Bitching about wack-emcees made-some people-think I'm-weak/more
attitude is-what some-seek/just-the other-day a new-battler came to-the
site and thought he-was tough/he-dissed my-rhymes and-still that-was not-enough/to-make his-pussy-ass happy/he said-that every-other emcee on this-site was-crappy/I told-him to prove-it and show his-shit/so in the
chat-room we battled a little-bit/he could rhyme but-he did-not say
shit/so that-is when he-got-hit/by my lyrical-gun/once-you motivate-me I
promise-it wont-be fun/so that-is when-I decided there's more-than just
picking-up the-mic and rhyming/you-have a-responsibility to bring-it
real and not-worry about nickel and dimeing/the-way-to express-ya
thoughts and ya-feelings is-the way-you express hip-hop/and the-way he
brought hip-hop was-slop/you cant bring-it real if-ya thoughts and
attitude is-fake/ya-bitting like-Tyson, and puffy-styles you take/so-the
next-time you step-to somebody/make sure you-know who-that person
be/cause ya-first mistake was-when you did-not respect-me/ya-2nd mistake was-when you dissed-the other-emcees on this-site/ya-3rd mistake was-getting high-as a kite/the-4th was-ng-ya mouth again/and ya-5th was-thinking-ya could-win.

Name: NIGGAMORTIS
From: BOSTON,MASS
E-Mail: the 12 people that voted for me
June 23, 1998 at 23:57:37 (EDT)

PEEP THIS i keep no SECRETS you could DEFEAT THIS with 12 of your NIGGAS YOU FUCKING CHEATER\you SPEECHLESS dissin because my POSITION you couldnt REACH THIS check your fuckin facts before you come with a WEAK DIS\COWARD you VOTED for your self the last HOUR\i saw that battle moved to FAST when it should LAST HOURS\nigga i took a BATH,FUCKED,then i took a FAST SHOWER-you claim i voted for myself? your ass SOUR\ 12 votes,aint my fault nigga BLAME somebody ELSE\ because you lost to me i voted for MYSELF?. you talk about tone deff YO that NIGGA aint HOLDIN ME\
the ONLY nigga that stands CLOSE to ME is the one thats SUPPOSED TO BE\my SHADOW-in BATTLE nigga no ones ever APPROACHIN ME.
nigga i battled you before and when the BLOWS were DELT you voted for YOURSELF so AGAIN GO FOR HELP.

i wont be surprised if i lose to the CLOWN
<------- he votes for himself almost everytime AROUND.

to tone deff--- nice battling dog no naming names is true MCing

Name: NIGGAMORTIS
From: THE FOUNDATION(BOSTON,MASS)
E-Mail: your niggas tell them you cant battle me alone
June 23, 1998 at 21:17:14 (EDT)

TYPE CHECK 1,2-to the TRUE ILLITERATE FUCK
SPIT RHYMES wit MINE yours MORE than a LITTLE BIT SUCK\
the way you jock my style CONFLICTS your HISTORY of DISSIN ME\rhyme like a FINE BITCH with OVERSIZED TITS and still cant GET WITH ME\
nigga you PISSIN ME OFF\SPITTIN these SOFT
rhymes with HEARINGAIDS-INFLICTION SICKENS ME-COUGH\
i drop my shit doggystyle SODOMY'S a COMMODITY\you OUGHT TO SEE your reaction when you asked your MOM who FATHER BE\
the ODDESSY of what true MC ARTISTRY OUGHT TO BE\the AUTHOR of this shit,your PLAGIARISM BOTHERS ME\
nigga i PLAGUE the RHYTHM-inflicted i PROVE too SICKEN\remove the double ss from "NEEDLESS" to bring TRUTH to your DICK WIDTH\ give USE to a TRUCE QUICK-dont bring the FOUNDATION into OUR RUMBLE\
\the DIFFERENCE between your dick and THIS
OUR FOUNDATION DOESNT CRUMBLE\
drunken you STUMBLED upon a SOBER MC that LEAVES A NOTE "cross the solid line wit your BOARD get YOUR VOTES and KEYS REVOKED"\ PROVOKIN ME to SHOW these niggas what you've KNOWN FOR WEEKS-
in your DEEPEST DREAMS you cant DEFEAT ME
go to SLEEP and KEEP COUNT OF CLONED SHEEP

Name: midnight ( silent assassin )
From: detroit not southfield
E-Mail: thesilentone3
June 23, 1998 at 16:43:52 (EDT)

i see into false minds like brain surgery/ sentencing those who commit purgery with the urgency/ advisory to those who wont come quitely/ i might just act violently in a way thats silently/ entering secret wars with fly words that soar/ like eagles, i pierce the heart of the closet as if my ryhmes were needles/
bad neighborhoods produce thugs/ fake ones from the burbs need to be unplugged/ im not a thug but still show luv/ ryhmes as precious as doves im in love/ me and the mic fit like hand n glove/ competition on the stage i must shove/ no disrepsect but i got the crowd locked like the club/ i share mental telephathy with the m.i.c/ together we can destroy any mcee/ not possibly but actually, i clean up the sloppy/ take em in as my sons therefore im poppy/ all glass jaw rappers must shatter when i come closer, i act in the role of a lyrical harrasser/ i block other writers like dam/ they say that when i mention who i am/ multipurpose like spam i represent to the fullest whenever i jam/ like glocs but still able to pop/ like fay-go when it gets to heated i just lay low

Name: MAESTRO CIPHERfeat( ,midnight ( silent assassin )
From: D
E-Mail: maestro27
June 23, 1998 at 11:35:09 (EDT)

Look who's back
the definition of wack.
I'm getting tired of your shit
trying to dis everyone, after the styles you bit.
A thrashing is what you're gonna get.
Brought to you by the Maestro rhymes that I orchastrated
every mc that battle me, ended up devastated.
This is just demostration
in the end, it'll be your eternal damnation
total anillihation
the total eradication
according to my calculations
talking all that trash is just speculations
Let I said before your marked for death
and when I'm done, a scorched mic is all that's left.
You play games, but like a corpse you ain't nothing but remains
I know you scared, cuz you just shitted in your hanes.
Now I'm gonna leave you in pain and agony
you never should have tried to battle me
those remarks just rattled me
didn't even startle me
cuz I'm a lethal force
and you'll curse
the day you dropped that wack ass verse.
You sorry ass bitch!

MSA

blount, the names speaks for its self/ ryhmes show no wealth/ aint sayin nothin/ plainly dont mean nothin/ saw my ryhmes you stoll from the survival scroll/ before you take you must pay a toll/ you bout to get burned like coal/ you only dissin for publicity/ not knowing what you doing is pure obscurity/ you practicing wackology/ now you must get disected like biology/ with the mic scaple/ i shread you to schrapnel/ make you pre-historic like fossil!

Name: Tone Deff
From: Miami (305)
E-Mail: QN5
June 23, 1998 at 01:00:15 (EDT)

NO MATTER WHAT YO DO, keep praying for SPACE BETWEEN US/
But that�s needless, when your "Foundation�s" at the BASE of MY PENIS/
I�m SEEMLESS in my delivery, TATTERED replies are NEEDLESS/
I kick and punch like a FETUS, so ask your bitch if SHE FEELS THIS/
I�ve SEALED THIS battle like navy personnel with ZIP-LOCS/
You sanity�s even a mystery to HITCHCOCK/
So, Where�s JACK when you need em, ya� fuckin JOKER?/
When I START You�re just a substitution like Nicotine Patches to SMOKERS/
Bitch, �I rock� harder than Cage and CONNERY/
Your name�s befitting, cause you be DEADER than DAHLMER BE, PROBABLY into SODOMY/
With every lyric, you HONOR ME: SHOWING me LOYALTY/
Through your plagiarism you�re OWING me ROYALTIES/
So CHECK yourself when you try to CONNECT WIT�/
Niggas whose styles have been PERFECTED, over TIME like FINE WINE/
My LINE�S PROTECTED, you�ve OVERSTEPPED IT/
You�re about as CLUELESS as a BLIND DETECTIVE,
with no DIRECTIVE, bitch, you get DISRESPECTED, AFTER the FACT/
Must be a SADOMASOCHIST, keep coming BACK to get SMACKED/
fuck a PAT, you get a STAB in your BACK/
So, TURN around and tell me STORIES, when you know you�re LYING/
Because your EGO�s the only one that�s REPLYING.

And that's WRONG with a "W", illiterate fuck.

Name: LOGIC (OF RBM)
From: MIAMI
E-Mail: LOGICITY
June 22, 1998 at 13:55:56 (EDT)

Alright check it really from one mc to the next/ it is it really so complex composing rhymes that make some sense/ I mean the pressure keeps you tense and writers block must be immense/ but I'm sick of hearing rhymes about your block and smoking sense/ keep it in the present tense and since my presence tends to wonder/ no more remakes of "why you wanna takes us under"/ that shit is out of PLACE like MELROSE tends to be/ FOX always has the fights they need more FRIENDS like NBC/ and broken down to ABC's I ROSe up just like that ANNE/ and when I want to C more BS I watch the show with LETTERMAN/ I be the Logic man with references like hockey has the cross checks/ getting PAID N FULL like RAKIM did when the album sold at specs/ see I did buy THE RECORD and I PUT THE NEEDLE ON it/ PUMP UP THE VOLUME in your system just like EZ made you want it "up and on it"/ but I like it deep, deep underground/ so surface up some better lyrics cause your fucking up my sound/
I SPECIALIZE

Name: ANonymouS
From: Bronx
E-Mail: rug1
June 22, 1998 at 07:05:24 (EDT)

Verbally hostile, malicious lyricist/
Exhibit death sentence lyrics from the dark abyss/
From the great-unknown premises I reign on/
The elemental soloist distinguished from dead presidents through seance/
Stay on point throughout star war conflicts/
Speak solar system politics with the heart of a convict/
Lyrically suppressing nonsense with explicit content/
The dividing of water head Poseidon�s is evident/
When actual evidence is set up as a precedent/
Niggas resent my decent with contempt/
But rather than attempt to attack they play the back and repent/
For what they lack speaking bogus against the God�s chosen/
Every word spoken, golden mental unfolding leaving wills broken/
Forsaken soldiers scolded, limited within the gimmicks they live/
The final decision given within tight confines/
To enlighten the minds of those that praise the sound/
Where skills represent dollar bills, not the other way around.

Name: NIGGAMORTIS(of the foundation)
From: BOSTON
E-Mail: BIGCEL42
June 21, 1998 at 18:30:03 (EDT)

nigga you KILLING ME wit your most TICKLISH RIDDLE about your PITIFULL BRITTLE ABLITIES\hook lines up like UTILITES\ to LET you SEE you REFUGEE\you wanna MESS WIT ME\bring in your BEST get LEFT AT SEA\dont get yourself CAPTURED\the 1st penalty of ATTACK is FRACTURED-WRISTS\SINCE you a little kid i SLAP YOURS\ nigga i DEPORT\
what you come BACK FOR?\ in FASTFORWARD\
you could never catch or LAND UPON the shit that im ON SON\ your FLOW on tracks is FLO-JO\meet MICHEAL JOHNSON\
the Rong Black Man(RBM) to FUCK WIT\
you STUCK WIT\this NIGGA like RIGAMORTIS\
bitch you still SUCK DICK\TRUST THIS\
if pages missin-you bought the WRONG BOOK\
and if you claim you can see me,you better TAKE A LONG LOOK\
BEWARE the STARE-nigga i ROCK like MEDUSA\
you DARE "take a stand" wit YOU COCK IN YOUR PRODUCER\understand you aint USED'TA
battling a nigga who is SUPER\you STUPID like LEX LUTHER to TYPE TEXT over COMPUTERS\LOO-WOO-SER\nigga you gone DEAF still i CHOOSE to SPEAK\fuck attack or reset nigga USE DELETE\you WEAK which means me and you are OPPOSITES\
do yourself a favor next time you DROP A DISS-COP A WIN

Name: Dj Scooter
From: Chicago
E-Mail: sziebell
June 20, 1998 at 20:39:16 (EDT)

BLUNT IS A BITCH AND IS FUCK WITH THE WRONG HEADS

everybody asks the best emcee is who
i know it sure ass hell ain't you
ya cant just jump on this page and throw ya weight around
ya only looking like a clown
read my rhymes for what they are
digging for something wrong with me but how many battles have you won so far?
thats all that matters who gets the votes
and who gets the props for what they wrote
you show no respect you have no case
punks like you is what makes hip hop have a bad face
so step off my shit
wack ass rapper is what you fit
i won this battle before it started
you trying to diss me but ya rhymes smell like ya farted
ya say i don't bring the truth
but why is it everybody steps into my hip hop booth
BLUNT i dont like you
and if you want some more scooter is always ready to come through

(much love to ANonymouS dont worry if i loose this battle to you i will post it again)

Name: MAESTRO CIPHER
From:
E-Mail:
June 20, 1998 at 17:32:27 (EDT)

It's a full moon and I'm on the hunt
my next target, this bitch nigga blunt.
Saying my name was a dangerous stunt
you had some guts
but your ass is mine, no if ands or buts.
Faggot ass bitch, go sniff under someone else's nuts.
Biting of my rhymes
that's a serious crime
never try take what is mine.
You just made a powerful foe
never fuck wit a real rhyme Maestro
ask for a rhyme, and I'll say so.
Knock ass out like Riddick Bowe.
We standing toe to toe
backing more firepower than G.I.Joe.
I got a solution for the situation
get off you ass and find an occupation
you've been consumed by complication
uninstalled like a window's application
So be a alarm
cuz I'm about to drop the bomb
you'll get religious and turn to
Islam.
I shock in amaze
and this rhyme is just the first phase
I'm wild and on the loose
I heard better rhymes from doctor suess,
then again half your shit I wrote
just make a mental note.
I'm a high flier
def defier
Blunt your lyrical license has expired
why'd you come here, there's no bitch mcees for hire.
Don't ever fuck wit me
I blow this shit up, and create a real catastrophe
work energy like tai chi
and I'll beat you ass for free
you locked up and a threw away the key
should have never fucked wit me!
YOU BITCH!

Name: midnight ( silent assassin )
From: you must understand my thoughts to
E-Mail: thesilentone3
June 20, 1998 at 08:30:49 (EDT)

dear demon,

im being a MAN not a bitch for doing for doing this/ but this battle of ours i must now dismiss/ cause the way a person came up i should never dis/ you talk all that hell shit/ i just did'nt understand it/ was'nt feelin it/ cause that life i never lived it/ i must ckeck you on what i said about Arizona and main stream/ did'nt mention the underground cause i knew about that scene/ i've heard about that spot/ i know the shit is hot/ i know im not an mcee/ that, i am not trying to be/ this micastrophe is an outlet from the stress in my reality/ do not misjudge me for trying to put down a ryhme or three/ you know nothing of me/ stop trying to figure me/ my age i wont reveal/ still im legally grown/ you were in the wrong classifying me in the little boy zone/ its just in my nature to attack when im offened/ thats why i dissed you, you should commend it/
in my mind i dont think you are a mcee either/ but one who has tried and is a underachiever/ you must respect my position/ right now im givin the definition/ ignore or listen/ whatever may be the span of your attention/ we are never going to be friends/ frankly, i dont care if i ever hear from you again/ its just a case of two peeps with different ideas/ age a difference in years/ but we all are still peers/ i can kill wit ryhmes to/ able to subdue anyone who aint true/ you can take this however you want it/ this was just something on my chest i had to get off it/

sincerely
the silent one

Name: Tha Demon
From: Hell
E-Mail:
June 19, 1998 at 16:28:08 (EDT)

Theze 2 kidz from Detroit show alot-of-heart/but I'ma end this-shit cuz I caused this shit 2-start/Yeah,I called out ya-namez cuz you lackin-in-skillz/dissin a true poet from a place where fakez get killed/Tha BX,let me say it again/BX,where this whole rap shit began/You right,ASSassin,AZ ain't gone mainstream/cuz tha undaground iz where you'll find tha true scene/I neva said Detroit MCs can't get mean/but you ain't no MC,I must intervene/It'z good ya checked me about that Satan shit/cuz I don't worship tha Devil,I'm just triple-sic/Let me explain it,when I talk about Hell/it'z where I live,where Death and evil Demonz dwell/it'z funny how scared you are of my mystery/I've been knockin out little boyz like you all through history/True poetry iz wordz of reality/while you sit and curse and scream so loudly/I see tha respect intertwined in ya rhymez/you don't want none o' this,it'z evident in my mind/rewind what I say and play that shit backwardz/tha hidden message iz ya fuckin wit a lyrical slasher/so this iz lyrical warfare,I'm firin napalm at ya brain/and when I emerge from tha flamez,you'll have yourself 2 blame/cuz I ain't tha one,I'm tha heat from tha Sun/I'll murda anyone,but tha mic iz my gun....

Name: BLUNT!
From:
E-Mail:
June 19, 1998 at 15:48:16 (EDT)

FUCK YOU ANONYMOUS
your bitch ass cheated
I watch you beat me in ten goddamn seconds.
You cheating ass bitch, this is dedicated to your ass you stank ass bitch.

Anonymous the gay ass bitch, thinking he hard but always pulls the swicth. I'm the one to put a bullet through your ass so if you wanted to battle someone, I'd be the last.
Bitch ass nigga
you won how you figga
chump ass nigga
I'm gonna kick your ass
You'll be deleted
if you so great, how come you cheated. So fuck you anonymous, fuck you mama, you daddy, fuck your dead ass homies, cuz it's just a figment of your sick imagination you sick ass bitch. You've been watching to many ganster movies you dumb ass hoe.
I fucked your hoe mama to, you bitch! Don't fuck wit Blunt I'm gonna hurt you damn feelings, cuz I'll talk about yo mama and won't give a flying fuck. You stank ass bitch. FUCK YOU MAN YOU AIN'T YOU AIN'T YOU AIN'T! BITCH!

Name: ANonymouS
From: Bronx (The Great Unknown)
E-Mail: rug1
June 19, 1998 at 15:28:08 (EDT)

What a comedy/
There�s no rivalry to this M.C.; that�s my word/
You two herbs could get murdered for being absurd/
Using my name just to get heard/
Acting like you deserve some kind of respect/
Check, it�s earned not given/
I�m spitting for my niggas no longer living/
So whenever your dissing; your shitting on their essence/
Come question my residence; and your fam will be missing your presence/
Fuck hesitance/
I�m shooting sentences at these adolescents with no penance/
And serving niggas like tennis past their defenses/
As the war commences killing M.C.�s with relentless force/
Your whole staffs pussy, so when y�all see blood; your men�ll pause/
Sword for sword, draw the Red October on your soldiers/
Spitting lines colder than diamond boulders then scolding�ya with the toaster to your shoulder/
While repeatedly hitting�ya with the closed caption picture/
Battles with y�all wack niggas got me gassed like Hitler/
Yet, I�m still flipping scriptures for more than figures/
While you still can�t figure it out/
What I�m about, I�m about/
Remove my dick from your mouth/
It�ll help you speak clearer/
Cause after God, there�s not another nigga nearer.
(Dedicated to my two favorite bitches, Maestro and Midnite)

Name: midnight ( silent assassin )
From: DETROIT AREA ( NO DISRESPECT MAESTRO )
E-Mail: thesilentone3
June 19, 1998 at 11:27:33 (EDT)

I TAKE MCEES TO NEW HEIGHTS I CARRY WEIGHT/ SO I GUESS WITH MY RYHMES I LEVATATE/ BAKING MCEES LIKE PILLSBURY CAKE/ BUT AT THE SAME TIME I CHARBROIL LIKE STEAK/ THE SKY IS NOT MY LIMIT/ DONT BELIEVE THAT GIMMICK/ ITS ONLY SERVES AS A GATE WAY TO FURTHER ACHIEVEMENT/ I ENCASE MCEES LIKE PEPSI CANS THEY GET CRUSHED IN MY HAND/ RECYCLED INTO BETTA CONTENDA'S AND STILL GET BURNED TO A SINDA/ IT MAKES NO DIFFERENCE/ PICK YOUR PREFERENCE/ THE TABLE OF CONTENTS ALL LIST THE END OF YOUR EXISTENCE/ I ROCK LIKE IN A HARD PLACE/ MICROPHONES I LACE/ LYRICALY YOU CANT CATCH ME SO DONT MAKE CHASE/ REMANUFACTURED TREES AND INK RECORD MY THOUGHTS/ OR I COULD KEEP EM IN MY MIND STORED IN A VAULT/ STEP BEFORE ME NO YOU MUST HAULT/ YOU'LL GET WASHED OF THE BOARD LIKE CHALK/ CALL ME A FIEND CAUSE MICS I STALK/ IM A LYRICAL WAREHOUSE I KEEP RYHMES IN BALK!!!!!

Name: NIGGAMORTIS
From: BOSTON,MASS(higher elevation)
E-Mail: BIGCEL42
June 19, 1998 at 04:06:26 (EDT)

nigga why is you bitchin over CAPITALIZM\
im the nigga that you ENVISIONED\
asked me to TAP YOU IN PRISON\
that SYNTAX you was SPITTIN\FLIPPIN-
"hipocracy,lost to me,and POSSIBLY"\
was SLOPPILLY an ATTEMPT to COPY ME\
so REPENT and OFFER ME\ RESPECT\
DUE PROPERLY\THROUGH INTELLECT i INTERCEPT NEW THOUGHTS YOU TOSS TO ME\
your rhymes are TELEGRAPHIC and BITTEN at BEST\SPIT rhymes and FELLA'S ASK IF\
\"YA SHIT WRITTEN AT DESK'S??"\
nigga you HITTIN a VET\my name A HOLE IN IT?\NIGGAMORTIS,the one YOUR BITCH blames for SWOLLEN TITS\
thats the way the GOING GETS\she FLIPPED and SLIPPED me some NOOKIE\before you DIP,check ya BITCH\she got some MILK for your COOKIES\ROOKIE\you know the saying
"played PUSSY got FUCKED" your rhymes-
SKINNY and LIMP- I FLOW VIAGRA\
WHATS UP!!!

Name: midnight ( silent assassin )
From: DETROIT
E-Mail: thesilentone
June 18, 1998 at 21:21:05 (EDT)

YO demon stop all that screamon/
when you were in prison/
your were doing it for a reason/
cause them buff fellas were raping you clean but without muthafucking vasoline/
now you an allstar on the faggot team/
talking about detroit mcees cant get mean/
name one mcee from arizona to go mainstream/
you started this whole riff/
now for you i got a gift/
a one way ticket of a muthafucking cliff/
if your really a demon you'll enjoy it/
shit/
you wont have nothing left/
lets see how you would really act in the face of death/
yo ass will be praying to god then want cha'/
you'll be so tormented not even satan would have ya/
i only dissed you caused i would've been a punk not to/
i guess we're not finished yet on to round two/
after this i should have respect earned/
for my destruction i know you yearn/
do you really want to kill me?/
go head help the white man's treaty/
it'll just be dead black brotha killed by another/
you talking all that hell shit when none of what you say is legit/
its all conterfeit/
stop calaiming it/
if satan just came right out the blue/
do you think he would spare you?/
no not you/
or any one of us/
what you state is unjust/
i made my rebutal/
so return to your huddle/
think of a better way to bust my bubble

Name: midnight ( silent assassin )
From: detroit area
E-Mail: thesilentone3@hotmail
June 18, 1998 at 11:06:28 (EDT)

i must retaliate/ on the dezert demon the individual who doesn'nt know his fate/ dissing me was the greatest mistake you could ever make/ better be lucky theres a 200 word limit/ cause what i got for you is infinite/ your ryhme did not submit, sounding carried over/ now im stricking back, freezing your hell over/ the assassin's forever blastin/ wack emcees like the demon im outlastin/ adminastrate srtech marks to your brain as it tries to cover my lyrical range/ fucking wit me and the maestro is not sane/ to you im a bring pain/ whip you like that white boy got cained/ dish out a death blow/ watch you crumple to the flo/ after this demon dont even try to reason/ when you dissed me you committed treason/ im continue to verbaly bash you until its known that you are a fool/ your gonna need lots of aid, cause the situations not kool/ steady mentioning the names of the hall of fame/ you in the hall of lame/ only words listed are your name/ the dezert demon/ from hell im not believon/ probaly a cat from the suburbs/
spending yo time sitting on the curb/ the hardest thing you ever did was smoke herb/
i see though your mirage/ you could'nt hide from me draped in camoflauge/ on your forehead posted will be my slogan/ im a drop with more impact than the leg drop of hulk hogan/ im lead this marathon while you still at the startin line/ and when im finished at that same spot you ima find

biaziatch!!!

Name: Tone Deff (of RBM)
From: Miami
E-Mail: QN5
June 17, 1998 at 22:24:36 (EDT)

I CHUCKLE at your MUDDLED REBUTTLE and SUBTLE HIPOCRACY/
Claiming to �crush me through votes�, motherfucker you LOST TO ME/
That�s POSSIBLY the worst written CACAUPHONY you�ve SHOT AT ME/
But I�ll CAPITALIZE on your PROPERTY down to the fucking APOSTRAPHE/
No wonder your pointin� out dates, cause June 11th was the LAST TIME you won PROPERLY/
Class is in session, bitch, I keep it SCHOLARLY/
Go ask the �New Kids� what a haven for faggots BOSTON BE/
I checked the scrolls prior to writing that verse you�re DISSIN�, B/
SOME of the words were CAPPED, but you didn�t do it CONSISTANTLY/
And THIS�LL BE proof your rhymes ain�t shit, so kill the DREAM/
"RIP YA MIND THROUGH YA CLIT"?, now what the fuck does that MEAN?/
See, your lyrics are full of MEDIOCRITY/
SLOPPILY constructed for duckets and other ATROCITIES/
Your BACK SNAPS from the VELOCITY of my verbal VISCOSITY/
There ain�t no STOPPIN� ME from executing the M.O./
You�re �paying�, but �broke� studios refuse to record your DEMO/
You�re �unsigned� cause your wack, so don�t PUSH ME/
You could only get �hired� at whorehouses when there�s a shortage of PUSSY/
I never name names, but yours�I leave a HOLE IN IT/
So, quit rhyming cause you suck more than newborns on SWOLLEN TITS.
Got Milk Motherfucker?

Name: Dezert Demon
From: Hell
E-Mail:
June 17, 1998 at 19:06:52 (EDT)

Call me a playa-hata,yo ya played-out/I'm-rockin til that cliched-phrase-fadez-out/cuz I can't be a hata if you-a-wanna-be-playa/I roll wit ill-clicks-n-sick-rhyme-sayaz/I'll spray-ya wit flamex from tha depths o'triple-6/while I fuck you Demonslayaz wit-a burnin-crucifix/Up in tha mix of action,I'm blastin tha Assassin/who claims 2 be Silent,but spitz 2 much faction/Oops,I meant fiction,wit ya sloppy diction/syntaz erra everytime you be dissin/Anonymous,claimin he ain't ghetto,talkin 'bout-Cornell/He from tha Bronx,bitch,where real-lyricists dwell/Tha birthplace o'Hip-Hop,murda,thugz,and gunblasts/Ya betta show some respect,bow-down-and kiss his ass/and while you at it,clean my shoez az I kick-you-where ya smell/ya done fucked-up now,ya got a foe from Hell... (Oh, it ain't over,muthafuckaz)
Maestro,what orchestra you conductin?/fuckin-wit Dee-Phunk,punk,that'z self-destruction/Spontaneous combustion from bussin that wack-shit/now my main-function is 2 crush ya skull-backwardz/I smack-kidz like you without even-blinkin/Jack-you then ask-you,"what da fuck were you thinkin?"/And when I'm-drinkin,I might slur my flow/But all you'll see iz a blur as I murdur you slow.......

Name: MAESTRO CIPHER(a.k.a. Rashard) the new name
From: THE D
E-Mail: maestro27
June 17, 1998 at 17:21:04 (EDT)

I got mo' flows than you can spit
mo' flows than diarrhea makes you shit
mo' flows than an uzi shoots bullets.
Watch you see isn't always you get.
I got dual identidies like Clark Kent.
Once Rasharrd
now I'm on guard
Got my knighthood so call me sir
Maestro Ci-pher
have mcees pissin' on themselves, now they
need a diaper.
I'm on a hip hop caper
evaporating quicker than water vapor.
I conjure lyrics
like psychics conjure spirits
you done lost this battle, so gimme your merit.
Putting down rhymes is a habit
want the mic, well you can't have it
cuz me and battling is automatic.
Whoever I'm battling no disrespect,
but I've come to wreck
I'm speilberg so get the hell of my set
fucking wit me, you'll learn regret
cuz I'm the illest maestro you ever met.
Like the Sherriff Nottingham I'm here to
collect.
I disconnect, fuck up your intellect.
Now you're mind is going hectic
like a shot down pilot, you ejected.

Shout up to my boy Midnight(Silent Assassin) PEACE

Name: midnight ( silent assassin )
From: detroit not southfield
E-Mail: silentones3
June 17, 1998 at 03:40:04 (EDT)

the war story/ taking place in a land thats starting to bore me/ supposed to be made so ones can get their ryhme on orderly/ but unfortunately/ ive had it up to here/ recently/ its been fakes accumalating fear/ voting for themselves just to put the contest in a faster gear/ words spoken, are meant for the ear/ ryhmes entered now are so shitty/ that they're meant for the rear/ corrupt winners get in/ trying to hide their sin/ more suspect then when the presidents party bin recieves illegal ends/ its been/ no secret and im gonna prove it/ they all act under one cohesive unit/ in a computer buddy-system/ assassin-definately not about to miss em/ one by one their done/ chamber emptied out the gun/ no more self-conscience mcees/ all true ones can rest with ease/ become prodigies/ to the biters please/ destroy them violently and calmly/ satisfactory/ if i dont harm thee/ strongly/ with the mentality of an army/ assault on the protege's/ cause they under apprenticeship of mcees with wack display's

Name: NIGGAMORTIS(the CAPtain of this ship)
From: SOUTHSIDE
E-Mail: peep the scroll, JUNE 11th 1998
June 17, 1998 at 02:24:46 (EDT)

TONE DEFF.. peep the scroll again partner
JUNE 11,1998.

nigga you DONT KNOW\bite off too much and YOU CHOKE\i'd like to reach out and TOUCH\but i'll just CRUSH YOU THROUGH VOTES\peep the SCROLL\june 11,NINETEEN-NINETYEIGHT\are you BLIND\my RHYME\was capitalized\did you FIND ME?/WAIT\it's a little TOO LATE\like the bulls you GET SPLIT\i stay UNSIGNED like im PIP\and RIP your MIND through ya CLIT\
nigga you's a BITCH\you still wanna BATTLE ME\ CEO of this SHIT\EQUIPIN niggas wit SALARIES\so here's your application,I PAY YOU,you PAY YOUR BILLS\nigga you STILL call like "AM I HIRED?\I'LL PAGE YA\
\CHILL\ i've made a DECISON\presently you do not fit the DESCRIPTION\i need TRUE mc's to fill POSITIONS\but LISTEN\if i ever need help I'LL FIND YOU\nigga you TONE DEFF\I GUESS YOU BLIND TOO.

I hearby sentence the mc formerly known as TONE DEFF to 305 years CAPITAL PUNISHMENT.
his crime? telling CAPITAL LIES

Name: LOGIC (of RBM)
From: Miami
E-Mail: logicity
June 16, 1998 at 23:18:27 (EDT)

I could write you out like thesis/or treat you like my feces, but I can't treat you like my own...cause nigga you ain't the shit/i deliver all my knowledge in 30 seconds for some tits/but i don't like criticism, so i don't accept no tips/no dominoe effect it's just a shower of mc's/trying tothe dorrs in florida, but they just don't know the keys/so dread your self upon these locks cause they too complicated/besides, they might be braided/you stop, but i'll continue with delight, the groove is in my heart and that will be my guiding light/so as the world turns, i count the days of our lives, but i'm too damn young and restless and the soaps i despise/this aint no opera but i get placid like domingo/you bitch says she's a virgin yet she be hittin skins like ringo/i'm not woody allen, but you can play with mia/cause i make more noise than onomotopeia/but literally, let me tell you this/it's my logicall conclusion that niggas get dissed on the 1

Name: Tone Deff
From: Miami (305)
E-Mail: QN5
June 16, 1998 at 15:00:28 (EDT)

"Intertwined 5.0"-CAPITAL biting MC"
<-----------------------------------

Now, everyone take a Quick Glance to the LEFT/
You'll run into a rhyme VAGRANT commiting a FLAGRANT THEFT/
With a 'moment-stolen' fo 'parts'in an AGE WHEN DEATH..is prevalent/
It's EVIDENT, you're far from ELEGANT/
I hold mad gruges like ELEPHANTS when you fuck with me in my ELEMENT/
Biters that's rock solid get smashed to SEDIMENT.../
I 'tread the EARTH'TO DO TRACKS/
And I was the 1st TO USE CAPS/
If you think THAT I'm calling your bluff, I'm down to PROVE IT/
just check the 'Suvivor Scrolls' I'm the 1st nigga to DO IT/
And Let teh WORLD VIEW IT, vote for yourself oo be VOID/
I just kicked this VERSE from WORK to a nigga that's UNEMPLOYED.
<-----------------Biter.

Name: ANonymouS
From: The Great Unknown
E-Mail: rug1
June 15, 1998 at 23:36:16 (EDT)

$Dollar Signs of the Most High$

Whether where you dwell is considered heaven or hell/
The god blaze trails and reaches false teachers/
And preachers to impeach the president seekers/
Throughout speakers that feature more than the weaker can grasp/
Paragraphs of math graphed for mass destruction against the assumptions of where lies the power/
Behind fake towers the snakes cower using facades of strength and espionage at full length/
Yet not mastered with enough disguise to cover the lies that flower on the inside/
With drastic measures conveyed designs for treasure but mislead pleasure can not improvise against the wise/
Idle ties to the most high can't be denied during the final Armageddon/
Untrue professions of weapons get met with the divine intervention.

Name: TONY COSTA
From: THE LA LA CALIFORNIA
E-Mail: mr_costa
June 15, 1998 at 18:01:21 (EDT)

I smell FEMININITY
Wack MC's occupying my PROXIMITY
verbal SYMPATHY disrupting my SERENITY
ya'll SPINNING ME, envisioning a life of WINNING ME, this INDUSTRY ain't feelin my mental CHEMISTY
INSPECTING ME verbally DISRESPECTING ME
DECKING ME NEGLECTING ME when SUSPECTING ME should have ya'll niggas CHECKING ME
verbal VISECTEMIES got ya'll DETECTING ME
DISSECTING ME, TESTING ME ain't AFFECTING ME hip hop is like PROTECTING ME
but whats WRECKING ME imitadors is like SKETCHING ME INJECTING ME with the illest form of JEALOUSY
ELASTICITY i can't believe ya'll niggas didn't MENTION ME cause tone is prone to getting in trouble kind of like a KENNEDY the MYSTERY covering my body like IDENTITY
this ENERGY verbal homicide in this FACILITY, HUMILITY combination sense and SENSIBILITY, AGILITY illuminating kinda like UTILITIES
shots ring out hit the groud word ARTILLARY
TONY COSTA enter cypher ending all TRANQUILITY . . . you feelin me MENTALLY
heads bobbin PHYSICALLY this ENTITY known to flow from here until INFINITY
i FREQUENTLY slap box with mc's from this CENTURY, INJURY until they yell please stop your KILLIN ME but SYMPATHY is the ENEMY of INTENSITY
don't need your twelve votes cause in my heart i got the VICTORY

Name: XCELL
From: Michigan
E-Mail: ManuelN1
June 15, 1998 at 12:12:42 (EDT)

yo im metaphysical/
ANylitcal/
of these cats thats lyrically minimal/
Forcin me to give them verbal spirituals/
Flippin scripts like recipricol/
My third eye 3-dimensional/
Deadliest visual/
A fraction of my ability/
will destroy an mc/
within a 5 yard proximity/
thats the real g/
even niggas wit no hand is feelin me/
Cats be buggin when they find out im only
sixteen/
Menatally tap a pressure point/
Make you cough up yo spleen/
Im like the sentinel/
all five senses is Keen/
like ivory wayans/
I wont hesitate in sayin/
i got a cemetary full of wack emcees/
layin and decayin/
6 feet under is where they rest at/
always come equipped with verbal gat/
Continuously bless tracks/
Beat u wit a aluminum bat attached wit a thumbtack/
throw u in the path of a moving aircraft/
watch contact/
My dream is to emcee with Deck Rakim/
and you Comm/
Ill take out many mc's at at a time/
like that boy when he went to his prom/
My art of rhyme is more lethal than/
the art of war displayed in the vietnam/

Name: Tone Deff
From:
E-Mail: QN5
June 14, 1998 at 23:14:17 (EDT)

I Never diss unless I HAVE TO/
But if your calling my name, you�ll get it branded on that ass like a TATOO/
Cause I'm INDELIBLE, Stylistically CREDIBLE for every REASON/
More Synonymous to Fresh than Benedict Arnold to TREASON/
The way I EASE-IN, to this 'micatastrophe' SEASON/
Is SPICY like your GIRL who be sucking my dick for TEETHIN'/
You're EVEN blessed that this MEETIN'S over the INTERNET/
Cause in person, I'd light you up like the head of a CIGARETTE/
Cause I'm SMOKIN, all THESE MC's that's TOKEN, so take a PUFF, and call me DADDY/
And I�ll hit you with a MACE...GLADLY/
Notice I DROPPED the S, when I'm flowing I GOT FINESSE,
And that's the 'Alma Matter'/
You're played like references to PRADA/
By FOXY BROWN, cause I clown niggas that try to KNOCK ME DOWN/
No Playin, I'm the numero UNO in your YATZEE-town/
Fuck a computer with 32 MEGS of RAM/
When you're simple with rhymes like you've bitten "Green EGGS and HAM"/
Cause I get COMPLEX in comparable CONTEXTS/
When I FLEX I'm more globally desired than HOT SEX/
And more dreaded than SPOT CHECKS to Intoxicated niggas that's DRIVIN/
When 'scrolls are closed' I'm the only one that's SURVIVING/

Name: Tone Deff
From: (305) Miami
E-Mail: QN5
June 14, 1998 at 16:21:05 (EDT)

[Target Locked]

'SomeTimes' I GLANCE AT THE CLOCK/
and wonder how many times you've claimed to DANCE WITH THE GLOCK/
I chuckle and slap your girls' ASS WITH MY COCK/
And AFTER THE SHOCK's sustained/
I'll quake the earth BENEATH your FRAME/
Nigga's who CLAIM they've got GAME 'inhale hell' that's EATS the BRAIN/
And IT'S the SAME FEATS you STRAIN to ATTAIN/
But never again, will I allow you to use my NAME to COMPLAIN/
in PLAIN english I 'come across like Bridges' to NOTORIETY/
Cause While Rhyming I be like THOR, swingin' the hammer MIGHTILY/
At who be BITIN' ME lyrically, or even LIE TO ME/
I expell the TRUTH but a SLEUTH I've never TRIED to BE/
Now, I'mo be 'Frank'...and Tell you my name is 'Tone'/
THE muse of rhythm and MICROPHONES within the HYPERZONE/
Cause as fast as it STRIKES your DOME, I HOUSE nigga's like Mr. Lee/
The way Some of these KIDS get Votes, to me's a MYSTERY/
But THIS'll BE, the UNVEILING of all niggas lyrically FAILING to PLEASE/
So mentally SMALL, they're resorting to SCALING my KNEES/
So, I'm 'calling out' all you hermits who believe they got skills/
So, I can 'reach out and touch' motherfuckers for straight THRILLS.

[Target Destroyed-Transmission Complete]

Name: Odyssey
From: Buffalo,NY
E-Mail: wma8
June 14, 1998 at 12:48:14 (EDT)

Ya memories erased/ ya faced woth lyrical seduction/ I'm from the next level of mc's/ my tongue lash causes certain seduction/the repurcussions when i'm crushing/anyone that wants to step/ ya considered nothing/trying to bite off beter mc's-i'll rip ya larynx/you got me not caring/ ifrared light to ya forehead got ya whole crew staring/ya wanna squab-i'm daring/ya whole orchestral selections are weak/after ya soul is sold-i bring the devil to his feet/bowing to his heinous w/the crown on my dome/ give me the pitchfork, isplit fire plus i'm better known/I'll sell back and give you a room with firewater/prepare for your demise-3x the lyricle slaughter/kidnap ya daughter-impregnate ya mother/ a spawn like me-a great mc-not just another/ watch me rearrange ya ego/throw ya in a cage while we go/grab every rhyme you claim you arote' light it on fire-throw it back down ya throat!!

Name: midnight ( silent assassin )
From: detroit for ever
E-Mail: whatever
June 14, 1998 at 01:45:08 (EDT)

stepping out the shadows with lyrical warrants/
for the arrest of trash mcee's that need to be washed like detergants/
situation's urgant/
to get on the survival scroll you must earn it/
just cause you a hall of famer dont mean you deserve it/
enter my arena/
bloodsport criteria/
matches gory/
me authoring the fatality story/
exposing why the skillz are phat/
giving cholestoral to the closet cat/
cover your scalps with hard hats/
like new england pats, verbal bombs thrown/
but without the use of a quarterback/
price is right for mcee's with game show flows/
contestant mcee # 3/
has won thee/
a trip to my shakespeare trajedy/
where wack mcee's die/
crushed like flies/
never to come back again/
gone with the wind/
just remembered as folktales like huckleberry fin/
realism/
is the hand im dealing em/
deciding their fate/
with the verses i orchestrate/
its midnight(the silent assassin) causing grief/
to those who suffer from disbelief/
leaving all chopped at the knees, chattering teeth/
i put the mic back in its sheath/
could go on and on/
etcetera/
foreva bra/
but gotta stop for a while/
feel someone snatching at my style

Name: Dj Scooter
From: Chicago
E-Mail: sziebell
June 13, 1998 at 19:17:32 (EDT)

zippidy doo da, zippidy aye,
all you wack fuckers are going to pay
im back on the set to make you fear
every time i apeer
its to bad some of you wont step up
if you hide you cant get ya rep up
i have lost my hand full of battles
but i fought threw it now im herdin the cattle
I host this site like dela does with the lyricst lounge
and i know you like the way this sounds
see thats why i do this thing called hip hop
its expresses me my feelings and style so i wont flop
so NIGGAMORTIS you might of been bored
but your name still scored
it was put up on the scroll
to me rhymein is a bigger roll
then just what you have been doing
wack ass fucks that dont think have been screwing
my love called hip hop over
instead of developing skills you look for a clover
so change ya style quick
cause ya makeing me sick

much love goes out to the love of my life Jenny

Name: MAESTRO RASHARRD
From: THE D
E-Mail: sawatson
June 13, 1998 at 17:16:52 (EDT)

I'm bringing no mercy
Let's see, a nigga try to test me.
I get nutty like the professor
got more styles than a hair dresser.
Mic's you can borrow
I put a Z on your back like Zorro.
Accurate range like a bow and arrow
fly like sparrow
master of micnitism so call me Micneto.
Rap you like a bean burrito.
Beat you down like Joe Jackson did Tito.
Where ya niggaz at
more lyrical electronics than Radio Shack.
I go savage
the stage is what I ravage
I got rhymes that defy gravity
my rhymes give tooth aches like a cavity
You're been served so I am the waiter
swing mics like Darth Vader be swinging a lightsaber.
I'm willing and able
you disconnected like unpaid cable.
I'm multiplied more than a times table.

Name: Dj Scooter
From: Chicago
E-Mail: sziebell
June 13, 1998 at 13:52:17 (EDT)

NO NO NO THAT AINT GOING TO WORK/I KNOW YOU WANT TO WIN BUT YOU SHOULD NOT LURK/THE RULES SAY YOU ONLY PUT ONE UP/ SO RIGHT NOW YOU ARE GOING TO GET HUNG UP/THIS IS A BATTLE ROOM A PLACE YOU BATTLE ITS NOT HARD/YOU CANT POST A RHYME AND THEN POST A SHOUT OUT LIKE A RETARD/YOU WANT TO BATTLE THE GREAT EMCEES BUT ALL YOU DO IS CHEAT/YOU ARE LUCKY THAT ANonymouS XXX OR I HAVE NOT BEEN AROUND CAUSE YOU WOULD OF BEEN BEAT/LOOK BACK AT THE OLD SCROLL/THAT SHOULD BE YOUR GOAL/TO PUT UP REAL SHIT LIKE WE DID/ITS A GOOD THING YOU'RE JUST A KID/IN THE HIP HOP GAME/HERE IS YA FIRST LESSON TOWARD FAME/RESPECT THE ONCE WHO SPEAK THE TRUTH/RESPECT MY LYRICS LIKE THE BAT OF BABE RUTH/I WILL NEVER FALL UP SHORT/THINK BEFORE YOU RHYME ON MY COURT/TODAY IS THE RETURN OF THE BOOM BAP/SO RUN AND HIDE ALL THAT CRAP/DJ SCOOTER IS BACK TO RIP THE WACK FUCKS/SO STOP AND ASK YA SELF �DOES MY STYLE SUCK�?

Name: Tone Deff (aka Nickels)
From: (305) Miami..The Rock Bottom of the Map.
E-Mail: QN5
June 13, 1998 at 03:03:48 (EDT)

[An Informal Introduction:]

I was switched at Birth with Professor Einstein/
They swapped the rappin addict for the mathematical mind/
The pathological kind, that tend to obsess for their progression/
And with no regression, I MC like Escher in a session/
Quick for Quelming any question/
Overwhelming by selection/
Exercising Mind Aerobics, 'Till the rhyme achieves perfection/
I wish to relieve infection with my fame disease detection/
With the Tortutred Lyricists I make Connection/
I've been blessed in many ways, these days I've made an effort to invest in/
the luminance of self, So, I propell towrads the best in pen-manship/
To which I'm capable, yo/
The vibe is non-escapable, though/
To TRY and FAIL at creating Orignal flows
is better than skimming, and WINNING like a hoe.
(305)
The RBM Crew

Name: Dee Phunk
From: Strong Island, NY (recognize greatness...)
E-Mail: deephunk
June 12, 1998 at 23:18:47 (EDT)

For what it's worth / I give innovation birth / If you're hurtin' call the nurse / Verbal injuries I disperse / On all wanna-be lyricists / Talkin' loud so I know ya'll are hearin' this / Yellin' for mommy cuz the wack are currently fearin' this / Master your own destiny / I'll alter it if you mess with me / Dee's the best you see / Currently your shit ain't impressin' me / Shootin' more drama than an actor / Skills is the main factor / Destroyin' garbage emcees like a trash compactor / Shout fast / Lyrics / if you think you can outlast / This emcee / Not from Atlanta but I'll make you an outcast / From my land and the surrounding territories / Puttin' suckas to rest with these lyrical bed time stories.

Name: Clout
From: el eye
E-Mail: emcee5one6
June 12, 1998 at 18:03:08 (EDT)

I DIDN'T KNOW YOU HADDA BE A KILLA TO BE A RAPPER/AN ACTOR TO BENEFIT THE BENEFACTOR/I BREAK MY BACK DON'T CONSIDER AS NO SLACKER/ OR AFTER THERE'LL BE DISASTER-LONG ISLAND MASTER BE DEADIN SCHEMES/SNAPPIN LIKE EX-MARINES ON AMPHEDIMINES/KILLIN CHEDDAR DREAMS/WHEN I WAS RHYMIN WIT YA SET OF TEAMS I KNEW NOTHIN WOULD HAPPEN CAUSE WHILE WE WERE RAPPIN YALL WERE BEIN SCOPED OUT BY THE WHITE ASSASSIN/NUCLEAR FAM MEMBER/ COME WIT MORE SURVIVAL TACTICS THAN A NYMPHOMANIAC BLACK WIDOW OF THE MALE GENDER/ NOT A FELONY OFFENDER AND FAR FROM YOUR PRETENDER-BUT IN COUNTER ACTION I RETURN TO SENDER/SCRATCH YOUR NAME OFF MY AGENDA-ITS OUR SOIL/WE REVIVED AT NIGHT LIKE GARGOYLES STEP UP RAW AN GET CHARBROILED/WHEN I FLIP SHIT LIKE NASTY SPATULAS ON BACHELORS BLOOD SUCKIN MCS BE ACTIN DRACULA/I BE SO SPECTACULAR GO DOWN AS A LEGEND LIKE BOB MARLEY PUSHIN A ACURA-MANUFACTURER ON A ROLL-FUCK ALL YOU PLAYAS IN MY SYSTEM IM UNPLUGGIN CONTROLS/CAUSE DELIVERANCE STOPS WHEN I STRIKE LIKE U.P.S. /YOU THE DUDIEST THATS WHY YOU BE VEXED AND STRESSED CAUSE I ROCK WELL/YA PLOT FELL HOW YA GONNA COVER IT UP LIKE ROSWELL/GO RUN TA MABELLE WIT DAT GLOC SHELL CAUSE IM NOT WELL/NIGGAMORTIS IS GETTIN FUCT-MY RHYMES DAT DIESEL HOMO IN YA BLOCK CELL...

Name: NIGGAMORTIS( A TRUE COMMON SENSE FAN )
From: BOSTON,MA (underground)
E-Mail: BIGCEL42
June 12, 1998 at 03:13:57 (EDT)

NO LYRICS THIS TIME. i'd like to BIGUP COMMON SENSE for the micatastrophe,this place showcase's talent,good looking com.
i'd also like to thank all the people responsible for the site,the ILLEST MC also has the ILLEST WEBSITE. to all the TRUE SURVIVORS on the scroll,you earned it,YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. im shout'n out to the whole FOUNDATION CREW (infra-red,plastik,logic,e-mat,complex and whoever has given the FOUNDATION love and support) AIGHT THEN,TILL NEXT RHYME

Name: NIGGAMORTIS(armageddon)
From: its not about where im FROM,its where im GOING
E-Mail: DONT WASTE MY TIME
June 11, 1998 at 23:11:12 (EDT)

THIS IS A MESSAGE-to those peeps who voted PEACEMAKER\yall niggas is WEAK\through DEFEATS\I police FAKERS\jealousy is a bitch\im a threat to the CROWN\losing battles behind a website-how upset do i SOUND\CLOWNS\we'll do it live,if i lose,i'll put microphones DOWN\yall clowns a waste of time\ facin mine\adjacent-fakin wit complacent rhymes\most off yall niggas base'n lines\COWARDs\yall niggas'll see me for years\holdin\5 golden mics in the source\yall'll be still battlin HERE!!

Name: NIGGAMORTIS(the war is over)
From: BOSTON,MASS(the foundation headquarters)
E-Mail: BIGCEL42
June 11, 1998 at 21:23:25 (EDT)

I release\speeches through telekinisis\
and tell you fellas its jesus\coming from hell-to reach creatures\through speakers\
true deepness\features comin complete wit\
shit nasty and uglier-than bicthes you sleep wit\i keep hits\etched in stone\survivors scroll\got mc's claimin they ill-but lies where told\I WRITE IN BOLD\so all you niggas can see\i get paid for my style\yall niggas style for free\
and in awhile i'll be\the nigga thats most respected\drop a verse like"respected most thats nigga the\leave a note"THAT FLOWS DYSLEXIC"\or CIXELSYD(sic-sell-sid)\
i hope your shits felt kid\got niggas leavin a cipher like" thats some shit cel did"\holdin courses\i flip though styles liked sources\
you wanna battle NIGGAMORTIS\
nigga i'll hit you back wit YOUR FISTS\

THE FOUNDATION

Name: peacemaker
From:
E-Mail:
June 11, 1998 at 15:44:22 (EDT)

How about this
old school versus new school
ANonymous, Dee Phunk, DJ Scooter, XXX
against Maestro Rasharrd, Carrion, and Niggamortis

Name: silent assassin ( c nice )
From: the d ( WHAT, WHAT )
E-Mail: sawatson
June 11, 1998 at 13:11:21 (EDT)

my ryhme you hate it/ thats only gives me inspiration to keep displaying it/ went on the micastrophe to bash a certain mcee/ DEEPHUNK THE ASSHOLE OF THE CENTURY/ could'nt get my point across/ cause the voters thought the other deserved to be the boss/ fuck a loss, you all will never get rid of me/ voting against me is not the right remedy/ smashing niggas who call out my name, thats my buisiness/ cant get to it cause voters try to end is/ this message, i hope everyone reads it/ this keyboard of mine, im a continue to feel it/ blessed by the lord with the lyrical spirit/ fools dissing me saying the same shit/ leads me to believe their on each others dicks/ pound for pound im a most definately win the round/ statue mcee's, im a track they ass down/

Name: Odyssey
From: Buffalo,NY
E-Mail: Dan.Martin3
June 10, 1998 at 20:22:41 (EDT)

I go and and on like an energizer battery/grab my wargear when you wanna battle me/my mic, my skills, my voice and my rhyme/fuse brainwaves with elementz/what my psyche find/lyrics are hidden behind a firewall/i took you out 3 times and you still stall/what's the final call?are you certain/leave you hurting in a magical state so call me Merlin/turning modern day wars into a safe place/it's impossible-I can see it on ya face/speak the street gospel-PROTECT YA NECK/it's a shame when war involves more than techs/so what's next?what makes the cipher complete?/stomp grounds,wartime crimes,plant a seed/lyrical destruction on a higher elevation/4000 feet with no communication/I'm destined to go out like a soldier/die for what's right-this war kina molds ya/the government is unfair-they lead this atrocity/live a life of crime-ask why me?/why do bad things happen that i don't wanna/will it lead to drinking and marijuana/I live the street life dealing with the beast/I get revenge in armageddon when I rise like yeast/so I prepare for the final curtain call/YA SWEET MELODIES-I'M HARDCORE IMAGE-YA'LL!!!

Name: Dee Phunk
From: Strong Island, NY (listen and learn...)
E-Mail: deephunk
June 10, 1998 at 17:05:06 (EDT)

Maestro was fed the bait / Like a dummy went and chased it / Batters steppin' to the plate / Concentrate on greatness / My intention in this dimension is wack emcee prevention / Bring that ass to hell and back and witness my ascension / The speed of a cheetah / Watch me rip you that fast / Treat you like my DOS prompt and give your colon a backslash / It's my class / You came to me, but your lyrics were in contortion / You're word can't born because I just gave it an abortion / This is the time to show what you've really got man / It's my jam / I rock more spots than a case of 7-Up cans / Cancel your plans cuz I'm makin' new ones / I blew one / Out the frame / So now what you gon' do son? / Come back with another one of those weak ass reply raps? / Then I'll just have 10 more ways lyrically to push your fuckin' dome back

Dedicated to Maestro...

Name: MAESTRO RASHARRD
From: THE D
E-Mail: sawatson
June 10, 1998 at 15:18:21 (EDT)

Look at these dumb ass niggaz
talking about this ain't a place for dissin' how you figga.
Talking about I won't get known
Everything was wack on what you said and shown.
dissin' my boy, who has my back
now I gotta react
Lyrical talent is what you lack
but I ain't cutting no slack
Niggamortis, you ain't shit
I'll blow you to Kingdom come
and Plastik where the hell you came from
You don't know what you gettin' in
it's some deep shit you done stepped in.
That's your ass for sure
you infested wit wackness and can't find a cure.
Like a missile I heatseek and my target is a bitch nigga Plastik.
that wack verse you can keep
called Plastik cuz your bitch ass is cheap
your wack ass lyrics put most niggaz to sleep.
Dee Phunk, like the titanic your sunk
Strongisland my ass
your probably some white boy in Utah routing for the jazz.
Silent Assassin? You should be talking about me?
Cuz I'll diss everyone of these niggaz you see
Fuck Niggamortis, bring ANonymous to me
Dee Phunk your ass in the backseat. Your the ass of the snake, I want the head, take you ass home, and bring ANonymous instead.

Name: Dee Phunk
From: Strong Island, NY (I declare war...)
E-Mail: deephunk
June 10, 1998 at 00:50:15 (EDT)

Mention this emcee who's rising to the surface / Someone deserves punishment / That's my major purpose / To call out two kids who need a tounge lashin' / Pseudo-rhymes Maestro and Silent Assassin / Your flows are the same and the rhymes even lamer / Don't you know better than to fuck with Hall of Famers? / You didn't name but I like to educate dummies and jerks / Your words didn't agree with me / They made my tummy hurt / I mean it / I'm bulimic with that shit you permeate / Eat wack emcees like ya'll and then regurgitate / Come with somethin' stronger if you really wanna be down / Polluting the Surivor's Scroll while I'm rockin' the crown / Lyrically ya'll throwin' bricks / I'm a 90% shooter / Ya'll only win cuz you vote for yourselves on 12 different computers / Peep the first two words in "Assassin" / Perfectly constructed / To describe you and your crew / The Hall of Shame you're inducted / Verbal confrontations improperly instructed / I'm nice yo / And Maestro? / Your orchestra's misconducted.

Name: Carrion
From: Chatt-Town, Tn
E-Mail: Cuccollier
June 09, 1998 at 19:23:12 (EDT)

Knowledge is blessed definetely when I give it/ Niggas hate everything about my life, especially how I'm livin' it/ The sky is still the limit an'/ Lyrics is still unlimited/ Whether I win or lose I chose to live through rhyme because I'm into it/ Get influential with the spiritual subliminal messages/ In hip hop it's about the rhyme not the nigga that's stressin' it/ My demonstration's to teach a nation of peeps in waitin'/ Who are relatin' to the hip hop population/ Twist the truth, not how many chicks you hit/ How many chicks you get/ You can't succeed with a two minute manuscript/ You gotta come correct sometime and bring positive intillect/ Instead of the same technique, boastin' about yourself and disrespect

Name: MAESTRO RASHARRD
From: THE D
E-Mail: sawatson
June 09, 1998 at 17:37:57 (EDT)

Now who is this,
DJ Scooter
a mcee soon to be a loser.
I'll blow you away
with force of a germany A-K
you'll be killed swiftly by the words that I say
I'll eat you up like a bag of frito lays
I'll have you wondering for days
this memory of lyrics will run through your mind like a relay
didn't catch what I said, push replay
But the looks of your lyrics I can tell that your gay.
All you bitch mcees are the same
you most be pretty good I seen you in the hall of fame.
When I new King has came
With lyrical change
that'll make this whole site rearrange
Pump action like a 12 gauge
cast lyrical spells like mage
I'm wiser than the wisest sage
so click to the next page
I'm on the survival scroll so get your ass off the stage.
Your soft
now you've been sawn off
blown off
Out done by the rhymes I showed off
Now I'm ready to drop this
and I'm still waiting for ANonymous
or should I say anynymous
the antonym of this
I'll set you fire cuz I'm the arsonist
your another off my hit list

Name: NIGAMORTIS(of the foundation)
From: BOSTON(bean town) MASS
E-Mail: BIGCEL42
June 08, 1998 at 22:55:38 (EDT)

Yall niggas want beef,i bring the war\
i swing ta score\
i'll sting ya jaw\
you dont know me-so what you bring it for\
Naw nigga we aint threw wit the beef\
i see you new in the streets\
what you gonna do wit that heat?
them jordan's new on ya feet?
they match the blue in ya fleece\
i hope you threw in receipt's\
they probably wont fit me,thats cool\
im a theif

Name: MAESTRO RASHARRD
From: THE D (RAISE THE ROOF)
E-Mail: Sawatson
June 08, 1998 at 20:46:58 (EDT)

Now let's get to my hit list
oh yes, it's Anynymous
the would be lyricist
I'm the real rhyme professionist
I want you to come step to this
So I can deal you a beating
wack chumps is what I'm eating.
Fake ass gangster
I'll call you the gangsta pranksta
You just a hustla, bitch ass busta, dirty ass muthafucka.
On the down low you probably sing like sinatra.
Email me, so you grew some balls
Anynymous is a plus, hell no yall.
Naw just a minus, because with that name he/she is just in hiding.
Let people drop their verse first, so he can start biting.
In the survival scroll got my lyrics in display
three victories in a row on the same day
Eighteen wins, for you that old news
Ain't seen you in a month, what you on curfew.
Now it's my QUE
to take to you
I'll stone you so cold you catch the flu
I bustin' lyrics never heard
I'll hit you harder than the titanic hit the iceberg.
You rhymes stink like a turd
your the greatest, how absurb
you ain't from the ghetto
you from the suburbs.
Cornell, white personal
faggot ass nigga, you scented like shannel
Like a cheap ass toy I broke you
like weed I'm gonna roll you up and smoke you.

Name: silent assassin
From: detroit
E-Mail: sawatson
June 08, 1998 at 18:38:46 (EDT)

pop pop goes the lyrical glock busting like nines that rest in gangsta's waistline/ losing a match did'nt hurt no feelings of mine/ cause in my mind the skills will never recline/ i'll continue to raise mc's treating them like sons of mine/ i'm here for one reason only, and thats to seperate the legit from the phony/ sock em, lights out like james toney/ permenately injure thee, disfigure thee/ leave thee nothing but a memory/ have a memorial for them like those soldiers/ crystilized grinded like folgers/ have em all hunched over/ cause they bit off more than they could chew eating my lyrical bulldozer/ i'm going to find all the frauds/ exploring, navigating like ford/ make em sound foreign like honda accords/ bruising with my ryhmes/ causing more wreckage than streets without stop signs/ they sound pastime/ my ryhmes are nextline/ new wave off the future/ playing hard like indiana hoosiers/i'm not finished yet come and place your bets/ is it going to be me or that wack select/ make cash of my ryhmes like checks breaking necks with my lyrical flex/ with twenty inch word bicepts, im the secret thats best kept

Name: J. Freeze S.L.I.M.
From: El Monte, California
E-Mail: jrslim
June 08, 1998 at 16:31:33 (EDT)

yo check it:

he chemical compunds that surround the microphone/explodes in record timing, the illest politickin/ Nigga, proceed with extreme caution, I'm
watching/plus I'm reacting to comments made by hatchlings/ California, The state that rocks mics and vibrates/lyrical quakes, earths shake
and awake to assassinate/ Combinin with tha east results in wordpaly masterpiece/plus north and south, takin muthafuckas out/ by the
dozens, nah hundreds, how bout the thousaunds/supremem surroundin sound comin from frozen prophet/ J. Freeze, December, that former
child of God and Jesus/now currently a sun of satan and the reapers/ but remember, i've taken over the ranks of the devil/and escaped to do
battle with all clicks and wannabe rebels/ Through hell and back, attack with maximun strength/plus minimun effort results in Imperial holocaustic
states/ I'm hard to figure like dividin degrees and polynomials/with 2 coefficients, continue till the next centennial/ even notice, I don't even
have to overexaggerate/the use of vulgar language in order to completely devastate/ the train of thought, 5 times stronger mentally/but
physically above average, intimidate with verbal chemistry/ twenty four bars of pure, one hundred percent thought/recognize the wisdom, As I
return on the side of God.

Name: J. Freeze S.L.I.M.
From: El Monte California
E-Mail: jrslim
June 08, 1998 at 14:57:27 (EDT)

This ain't gangsta shit, it's my opinion:

Hey yo, Supreme be the meaning of my human being/the theory of emcee is demolished within my terror Season/ the psycho pathic squad must have been on angel dust/to think he and his team will maintain, pray to Jesus/ Super Sicko, the S is still represented to the God/Rock-hard lyrical holocaust becomes my Sub-atomic Shot/ Awaken the force beneath the earth led to rebirth/Of another Satan, but this version is more blatant/ No language containin tainted and vulgar disposition/The Super Secret Spy hunter still murderin visions/ I bend the backs of every wanna-be fierce competitor/Words So Strong brovas switched from unleaded to Super/ Worthy of the Spit upon mics that I electrify/Haven't had a
blunt in a month, but i continue to terrify/ Ya betta warn the rest bout the words of Seismologist/The lyrical earth quake you experienced prepares the Apocalypse/

The S Verse

Name: Carrion
From: Chatt-Town, Tn
E-Mail: Cuccollier
June 07, 1998 at 23:58:28 (EDT)

I'm the one man army, you know you can't harm me/ Due to the fact you're style's wack and sorry/ I disarm thee/ And then I get rambunctious/ Put paralysis in your functions because of your frontin/ You had nothin' to begin with so I can't say you bagan/ You wanna talk shit but you gotta understand/ The micatastrophe is definetly a match-up/ Many wack niggas got their shit snatched up and packed up/ Just like yesterday them niggas gone/ I bring lyrical punishment no nigga can't front on/ Realize a nigga's got you shook up/ And he rock like the crack that feenin' niggas cook-up/ I cause lyrical tragedy in this catastrophe/ Niggas wanna speak my name but that's blasphemy

Name: NIGGAMORTIS(foundation head)
From: BOSTON,MA
E-Mail: BIGCEL42
June 07, 1998 at 19:38:33 (EDT)

my rhyme will stand the test of time
blessed to caress the rhyme
sometimes get ugly wit the mic\
but then the rest are fine
i strike the ref\accept the fine
i leave the best behind,like vietnam vets
unless the rest are mine
the best ta shine
although most nowadays claim to
when they talk about niggas with power it's me\when it's cowards they name you
YOU PLAIN TOO
you a better bore wit metaphors
i pimp this rap game like a bitch
cuz thats strictly jus what i met her for
im ahead\the score?
enough so there will be no upset
im sleepin on you niggas
and brotha's
I aint-even got up yet
i leave verses behind verses
like old cassette dubs get
and tell a bitch\"ihold the mic instead of ya hand,
CAUSE WE JUST AINT FOUND LOVE YET"

Name:
From:
E-Mail:
June 07, 1998 at 15:50:44 (EDT)

Name:
From:
E-Mail:
June 07, 1998 at 15:04:46 (EDT)

Name: MAESTRO RASHARRD
From: THE D
E-Mail: SAWATSON
June 07, 1998 at 13:36:14 (EDT)

(REMIX) CARRION AIN'T SHIT

I ripped you the first time
but I sewn you back in
just for the pleasure of rippin you again.
Nigga where the hell have you been.
When I hand you the mic,I'm handing you a grenade without the pin
Talking about know one can hang with you but your reflection
I just stepped out of the mirror
shit in your pants everytime I get nearer.
I crushed you every since my debute
hurt you so bad you wanna file a law suit
I'm never dying, from terrorfying results
I'll wake your ass up with hundreds of thousands of volts.
I'm bringing helter skelter
you better run for shelter
you scared like in a horror flick
grab your heart and wish for tomorrow quick.
My shit is ill, I'll shock you like electric eels.
Like Steven Segal I'm hard to kill.
Make you commit suide like Marylin pop the pill.
I'll have you begging for forgiveness
but I still won't end this
After I continue this
you'll be another scratched of the hit list
I'm still won't be through with you
Kick you in the ass so hard you'll be shittin shoe.
Faggots caught you, Got molested
got dicked up asschecks black and blue.
I'm going on this motherfucking site
it'll be a blast
when I'm finished I'll shove the microphone up your ass.

Name: SILENT ASSASSIN
From: THE D, D-TOWN, ( DETROIT )
E-Mail: SAWATSON
June 07, 1998 at 12:01:27 (EDT)

ONE
TWO
THREE
WHATS UP WITH ALL THESE BITCH MC'S
FOUR
IS THAT CARRION HIDING IN THE CORNER WANTING NO MORE
OF MY LYRICAL ONSLAUGHT, FOOL WHAT YOU THOUGHT
CLASS IS IN SESSION NOW YOU MUST GET TAUGHT
ABOUT HOW NOT TO DIS THOSE THAT ARE SUPERIOR TO THEE
NIGGA GO PARLAY IN A LANDFILL
CAUSE YOU ARE GARBAGE MC
THE NAME carrion SPEAKS FOR ITSELF
NOW CARRI those wack ryhmes ON back TO THE SHELF DISSING ME IS BAD FOR YOUR HEALTH
ITS LIKE TAKING A HAMMER AND HITTING YOUR SELF WITH IT LIKE DEMONS I GET WICKED PERSONAL DELIVERY TO THOSE WHO AIN'T FEELING IT
CARRION DONT EVEN TRY TO INVADE MY ASTROPLANE
IN THE LOST COLUMN YOU GOT MORE L'S
THEN COOL JAMES
SHIT!, YOU CLAIMING TENNESSE
I'M ON TOP OF THE WORLD LIKE EIGHTBALL & MJG WHILE YOU SITTING AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA LIKE BURIED TREASURE VERBALLY DESTROYING YOU IS MY PLEASURE
UP HERE SOUNDING LIKE A BITCH!!
CHANGE YO NAME TO HEATHER ALWAYS SPITTING
THAT LYRICAL WHATEVER.

YEAH AND ITS LIKE THAT SON, BRINGING ME INTO YOUR BATTLE WITH MAESTRO R DOESN'T
SOUND FUN.......FOR YOU!

Name: MAESTRO RASHARRD
From: THE D
E-Mail: SAWATSON
June 07, 1998 at 09:56:00 (EDT)

Last night
I took Carrion to new heights on the mic
by I was robbed, nigga bit on my shit like corn on the cob.
Faggot ass nigga, you be giving niggaz blow jobs.
Now watch me shoot with this lyrical blast
before you know it you'll be wearing these rhymes around your ass.
I'm the Maestro R
and who the hell you think you are.
I'm the real lyrical czar
I'm deadly like a great white shark
you gonna get your ass whooped for making those remarks.
Let's see if your bite is worst than your bark.
Wack rhymes, biting of other niggaz designs.
You crossed the line
now your ass is mine.
My rhyme was phat
and yours was wack
but some bitch fans stab me in the back
Now I gotta react
with the lyrical attack
who would have thought
I'd unleash this onslaught
now my lyrics gonna get arrested for assault.
Country ass nigga from tennesse
fake ass MJG wanna be
You worn out like Ryu's karate gi
I'll hit you in the face and you won't be able to see.
you won't be able to tell a T, from a D, from a B, to C you still wanna fuck wit me it's plain insanity.
Like Common got niggaz running scared
I'm your worst nightmare squared.

Name: Carrion
From: Chatt-Town, Tn
E-Mail: Cuccollier
June 06, 1998 at 20:05:46 (EDT)

You ain't the best I heard yet, you must be trippin'/You know you got Assassin's dick, who you kiddin'/ Your whole rhyme style is so simple/ How you gonna get ladies when you're hung like a pimple/ You talk lot's of shit, that's your comodity/ And you and your Assassin is down with sodomy/ It's best he keeps Silent cause he ain't sayin' shit/ Maestro give the word that he wants that niggas dick/ Carrion ain't the one that you wanna fuck with/ I'll bust both of y'all shit, which means y'all get stuck quick/ Yeah he's got your back but I'll rip him too/ He's soft cause your ass dicked him through/ Your technique is empty because your nigga hit it/ If you really want my position nigga, come and get it

Name: MAESTRO RASHARRD
From: The D
E-Mail: sawatson
June 06, 1998 at 09:49:56 (EDT)

Peep this
the lyrical arsonist
a rhyming professionist
Who's new on my hit list?
It's Carrion
the internet moron
you sweet?, nigga how you figga
I'll kick you in the ass and make your nose grow bigger.
I'm the King, the supreme being
the best you ever seen.
Get addicted like dope fiend.
I leave hoes moist like afro sheen.
Don't make me get mean
like the hulk I'll turn green.
I have you dancing like Ben Vareen.
I'm fresh of the scene
nigga come clean
Admit that I'm the nightmare in your dreams.
Not everything is what it seems.
I see through your wack shit like infared beams.
I got more warm ups, then the NBA teams.
Fuck up your life like in hoop dreams
Watch me rinse you like washing machine
Don't live up to the hype
I hand you the mic, take it back and say psych!
I takeoff and take flight
like sega's nights.
I get niggaz more hype than a tyson fight.
On pay per view
I'm ready but I don't know about you.
I'll take on you and your whole crew.
I work magic voodoo, and I got the Silent Assassin to back me up too.
Injure your ass so bad you'd wanna sue.
I'll beat your ass until you turn black and blue.
I'll subdue you
with the lyrics you knew.

Name: NIGGAMORTIS(of the foundation)
From: BOSTON,MASS(remember us?)
E-Mail: BIGCEL42
June 06, 1998 at 00:44:43 (EDT)

THE NEW WORLD ORDER IS COMING!
government got us/ hummin our lyrics
don't wanna hear it\
got minds locked\
mind body spirit\ desolated
i fear it\and still go near it\
check the date its\
never known/
in clever tones\
we speakin over cellular phones\
where ever home WAS/
thats where i wanna be\
but you'll never be your own fuckin person
just like a wannabee/
you'll hafta front/ ta get your back/
i guess we trapped like two-pac\
but if we do rock\
we'll keep it right like pronouncin tupac
the true blocks\ could hold down fort/
but for us\
the plan was failin when\
brothers buckin at brothers dont got the heart to buck at aliens\
run in the house\
shut the door, hit the kitchen floor\
and call their mama's name out\
before they blow their brains out\
a fuckin plain route\ we took\
just got'em to walk,talk,and look\
like us\
dress like us\
wantin to be the best like us\
all of a sudden\
we columbians\
nubian cubans\
shaolin italians\
and mafioso's/
they smilin cause we copy o-so\
probably buck me for a sloppy vocal\
put down ya cristal\
and pistal\
ya got me pissed now\
watch me\
get ya all on my nuts\
like yall on versace\
and i cant front\
i sport hilfigureitout-NAUTICA-and dkny\
dont mean i try to be WHITE\
i see right through\
ya funny style like empty bottles of perrion\save this shit NOW\
OR ELSE IT CARRIES ON!

Name: SILENT ASSASSIN
From: DETROIT, MICHIGAN
E-Mail: SAWATSON
June 05, 1998 at 20:04:18 (EDT)

AS I ATTEMPT TO RAIN ON YOUR PARADE LIKE A HELLSTORM
IM GOING TO DROP BOMBS LIKE NAPALMS IN
VIETNAM
MY STYLE'S FAT LIKE NORM FROM CHEERS
IM FAR MORE ADVANCED THAN MY YEARS SHOW
BE PREPARED IM ABOUT TO BLOW
SHINING FOREVER LIKE MOP N GLOW
DISRESPECT TO ALL CLONES BATTLE ME HA
YOU BETTER PHONE HOME
MY FLOW REACHES SPEAKERS AT EVERY SECTION AND ZONE
CREATING MAD NOISE LIKE A CROWD IN A DOME
OR STADIUM TO ALL THE PEOPLE WHO MOCK ME I HAVE NOTHING TO SAY TO THEM
MY STATEMENT SHOULD BE HEADED IF YOU DONT BELIEVE IT READ YOUR LOCAL NEWSPAPER COLUMNIST THESIS
I RYHME LIKE CLOCKWORK CONSTANTLY TICKING PROPELLED, INTRODUCED AS THE NEW EDITION LIKE JOHNY GILL THE COMPETIONS FLOWS ARE AS SOFT AS MASSENGILL OR MEDIUM RARE BURGERS AT CHARLIES BAR AND GRILL
WHEN YOU HEAR THIS I WONT CARE HOW YOU FEEL LIKE A PROSTITUTE YOUR SHOWS ARE A CHEAP THRILL
CANT HANDLE THIS COOL CAT WHO'S LYRICS ARE AS POWERFUL AS M-16 GATS AND MY TONGUE ACTS AS THE TRIGGERING EXACT
AFTER I FINISH SPEAKING ALL WHO LISTEN WILL HAVE SORE EARS LIKE AA MEETINGS
FELLOWS AND PEERS HEADS WILL BE SORE LIKE THE CASHIER WHO GOT BY THE NEIGHBORHOOD THUG AT THE CORNERSTORE

Name: MAESTRO RASHARRD
From: Detroit, Michigan
E-Mail: sawatson
June 05, 1998 at 18:36:31 (EDT)

I from the D
niggaz don't want to see me
Tune in like T.V.
Ask yo' mama if you don't believe me
I'm too damn sweet
you can't compete
I'm the ultimate feat
I cannot be beat
I never meet defeat
So take a seat
Class is in session
no who the fuck you messin'
wit,being a fag is hard for you to admit
Man or woman either way it goes you still on my dick. BITCH!!!!!!!
I gotcha by surprise
with the fist that pulverize
give a hand full of black eyes
you've been karatized
you gotta realize
when I'm done wit you, you'd wanna commit suicide.
My lyrics get arrested for double homicide
make others sick like pesticide
It's my rules that you have to abide.
You can't run you can't hide
my lyrics will hit you from the back or the front side.
Wash your dirty ass to shore like tide.
Now your brain fried
Nigga/honkey you tongue tied.

Name: MAESTRO RASHARRD
From: Detroit, Michigan
E-Mail: sawatson
June 05, 1998 at 17:19:08 (EDT)

I'm enrage, get your ass off the stage
I'll shadow kick you ass like Johnny cage.
Don't it sound amazing
cuz everytime I rhyme I leave
the microphone blazing.
The Mic is like drano, Volcanoes be erupting
rhymes overflowing, gradually growing.
After 12 I'm worst than gremlin
feed me hip hop and I'll start tremblin'
the thrill is suspense is intense
your horrified, scare you to death like
tales from the darkside.
By any means necessary that has to be done
So make way, cuz here I come.
My DJ cuts material
grand imperial
It's a must that I bust every mic that you hand me.
Like Eightball and MJG "it's just like candy."
It's inherited, runs in your family.
I don't wanna let off, you should kept off
didn't keep the stage warm so step off.
Reporting news like Tom Brokoff.
For every entertainer I got a torture chamber.
One on one and I'm the reminder.
I got mics filled with ashes, next to it
I got the victim's names in slashes.
Every rapper that comes I cut off his thumbs, put a record to his neck if he swallows it hums.
I got niggaz running scared
when I'm on the mic, they start sayin'
the lords prayer.
I eat more rappers than can-I-bus
my skills is what niggaz lust
I can't trust
they're scandilus
they'll bumrushed

Name: MAESTRO RASHARRD
From: Detroit, Michigan
E-Mail: sawatson
June 05, 1998 at 13:34:08 (EDT)

Let crowds in over 60 thousand/
the stage is hot and the microphones growling/
Niggaz try to bite the rhymes I be styling/
They're more durable then shoes you can run a mile in./
I have the crowds screaming/
I grab the mic and keep squeezing/
like Rakim I use a thousand words without breathin'
Bustin' techs like rhyming roulette/
I doubt you win/
Freestyle's like hand grenades without the pin/
lyrics so deadily they'll kill you and your next of kin/
Bustas you don't stand chance/
I make you shed more blood than gunshot victims in an ambulance./
Then I chop of yours hands/
kick you in your ass and make you do a headstand./
I do 360 degree flips like Jackie Chan/
Swinging from lyric to lyric like Spider-Man./
My flows so hot they give the microphone a tan./
This was only a sample muthafuckas!/

Name: expound
From: cincinnati
E-Mail: kjbishop
June 04, 1998 at 00:54:21 (EDT)

entranced in verbology
only the socialogically
minded, could find the sense that- stems, from expounds lyricism.
this expiedient expedition exemplifies the rhythm and extreme lyricism
embodied in all my visions.
for each and every mission I've enacted
is for Blackness.
This extreme freestyle commits direct blows to wackness.
please accept the fact that this is a freestyle.
this rhyming that I'm typing has not been written until now.
this flipiant reciprocator redirects all instigators.
while depriciated simulators- symptomatically rebuke my nature.
Since I am in a nation of ill-will I'm called to refute America
intrensically invisioning Black peoples as inferior.
educating the masses grows more and more difficult.
since major apathy of ourselves is seen by us as minimal.
We Blacks adress analysis with overtones of - "its not that deep".
this steep misunderstanding makes prior progress obsolete.
on that note I will leave you with a slight taste of my "ish".
freely-styled or written expound CANNOTsubmit!

Name: Carrion
From: Chatt-Town, Tn
E-Mail: CuCcollier
June 02, 1998 at 20:16:15 (EDT)

I'm known for standing niggas up like erections/There's only one nigga that can hang with me/My reflection/ You could make a compilation of your best rhymes/Spend all your free time trying to figure out how to defeat mine/ I'll battle anybody but watch me prove it/ And that wack shit you kick, is that your idea of music/ You're sadly mistaken/ But you been fakin' since the start/ You own no balls or heart/ Observe as I rip your shit apart/ And leave foot notes so you could study the rhymes that I wrote/ You ain't good for givin' freestyles but you known for givin' quotes/ We can get it on like Holyfield and Akinwande/ I make myself available to battle any nigga that want me/ The name is Carry On but make sure to carry on discreetly/ And make sure to always remember you can't defeat me

Name: Dee Phunk
From: Strong Island, NY (always prepared...)
E-Mail: deephunk
June 01, 1998 at 14:24:56 (EDT)

Heed my warning / Poised to go over your head like an awning / Mad alarmin' / Hittin' the snooze button cuz your style keeps me yawnin' / Fast dreams / Stimulize your body like caffeine / While I'm seen / out to make some moves for mad cream / Your battleship, I'll sink it/ Battlin' me why even think it?/ If you got poison then drink it / Make that ass scream like Jada Pinkett / It's just the 2 of us in this shit like Will Smith /Like parents, just don't understand how I be shootin' this ill gift / You passin' me is complete blasphemy / Mad rappers practice flatulence / Soundin' like ass to me / Wantin' to give your rhymes / When nobody really needs it / While I'm so nasty I'm givin' out lyrically transmitted diseases / Emcees playin' with fire / You know you're gettin' burned, right? / Teachin' leavin' you speechless / Manage to do damage like termites / And your plans to exterminate me verbally I will be stoppin' / Even tough I'm kinda clumsy with all these lyrics I've been droppin'...

Name: ANonymouS (GREAT UNKNOWN FREESTYLE)
From: Bronx
E-Mail: rug1
May 29, 1998 at 12:16:30 (EDT)

Why dont you try and enter my atmosphere/your whole style's pussy so here's your papsmear/see you aint the first one i've done,and you wont be the last/exposing that ass like priest after mass/now learn my arena is in no mere boxing ring/I sit on satelites near jupitor orbiting/so while you swing your fists,I send meteor showers/Deeply impacting the whole earth with my cosmic power/sending hellfire rain upon the city streets/chalking niggas in concrete everytime I speak/so heed my words there's no disscussion/snapping vertebrates,so you hear the crack of percussion/mental concussions left after each function/take your last breath and choke from asthma/disrupting your cell plasma,with reactors/just to go and show you who's the dominant factor/Gods ultimate pedigree second to none/genetically altered with immortal wisdom/armageddon the final outcome/with mind power enough to send planets hurtling into the cosmos/a supreme being known through out,for his live shows/rendering my foes helpless/while they shoot guns and missles I tear the earths axis/then devour the remaining particles like galactus/altering time frames,speeding through different portals/the god remains cordial/
invitations to all warriors intergalacticly/let them arrive to battle me,and when they attack/I implode into a black hole,and leave them in a time trap.

Name: ANonymouS (What If...............)
From: BRONX
E-Mail: rug1
May 28, 1998 at 01:19:44 (EDT)

What if my older brother's essence was still in this realm/Would I become inflicted with the sickness with which he fell/Would I have died on the same night in a gun fight/Bleeding with my family's tears etched in my last sight/What if I was never born/Would the scorn and hatred between my blood have been abated/What if I never made it/Would I be deep in the streets, or illustrated with chalk on the concrete/What if they tied me in with the drug shipments/Would I still be living or would things be different/What if I didn't have an alcohol addiction/Would I be able to make it through college without seeing prison/What if I didn't thug and showed my enemies love/Would it be my best friend that leaves my lifeline unplugged/What if my parents never provided for me/Would I still commit the same robberies with or without currency/What if everything I knew wasn't reality/When it changed/Would I be a fool for trying to rearrange the symmetry/Like our history/What if it wasn't twisted/What if at a different time conceived by the divine, I didn't exist/Would I be missed, with my peoples pouring out liquor as they sit back and reminisce/What if....What if...........

Name: Dee Phunk
From: Strong Island, NY (what's the deal??!)
E-Mail: deephunk
May 27, 1998 at 18:07:18 (EDT)

You're an atrocity /while I deliver proper lyrical prophecies / Ain't no stoppin' me / your best bet is to just start jockin' me / Steadily / Verbal retorts avaliable readily / You better be / exceptionally gifted if you plan to get ahead of Dee / You're only 50% emcee and still don't know the half / I stand and laugh as I rip you to shreds like my first draft / Demented / Heaven sent and Nautica cologne scented / That's my steez / You may be on the straight path but I fucked around and bent it / Too ill / Like Nyquil / Puttin' heads to bed / Peep what I said / Got it on lock like combs through natty dreads / Use your eyes and realize / And then my best advice is / Memorize my name and then recognize the nicest.

Name: Dee Phunk feat. ANonymouS
From: Strong Isle to the Bronx
E-Mail: rug1
May 26, 1998 at 18:28:30 (EDT)

DP:At your service/Gettin' exactly what you deserve,it's/
two of the finest/Enemies shakin' cuz they nervous/
Truly professional/out of this world/celestial/
Many attempt to communicate with these extra-terrestrials/
The crew's exclusive/Suspend intentions of the intrusive/
We tight,you loose kid/Bringin' motion to creative juices/
Bad decision to blind the vision of the superiors who made this/
We be the greatest/Puttin' rappers on permanent hiatus.

ANS>How-many niggas want-static,its-time for-the distortion/You're chasing-fortunes,but look-what-its costing/Forcing your-extortion,now-your life's-up for-auction/And I'm-making-the final-purchase/Against-the worthless-kids that-rhyme with-no-purpose/And those-that try-and hurt-this fronting-invincible/Against-us you need-a miracle,your dismissal-is inevitable/My lyrical-is unforgettable,turning devils'-lives regrettable/Impenetrable,actually-like-a chastity-belt/With one-sentence I-freak-the past-tense/So-you-know I got-to-be felt/And-still remain-untouched/So-many MC's got-fucked,you'd-think I-was-a-slut.

DP:Constant elevation/Lethal lyric demonstrations/
Shockin' the nation/Rumblin' from beneath like subway stations/
Far from a hot fad but the latest sensation/Facin' the patrons/
Who are waitin' for more/Be patient/Rhyme confrontations/
Want 'em so bad I can taste it/Your brain is vacant/
Results of dss deprivation/
Get too close when I rip it/you run the risk of laceration
The flow is sacred/ANonymouS grace this situation...

ANS>In actuality/Rappers get-burnt-like calories when-they battle-me/Salary-capped-casualties should-stick to formalities/Gradually/They fall-to flattery and-become mere-fatalities/Proper-strategies taken-on adversaries-emphatically/Drastically/We establish-mastery over-your weak-menagerie/Haphazardly,my-enemies connect-with parries/Imaginary/The-lives they-carry,get married-to my-mob and hurt-badly/More-tallies from-the-rallies sent-against his-majesty/Graphically/Administer-reality to-your mentality,with no-form of-amity/We-guarantee the-outcome of-your lyrical-catastrophe.

Name: ANonymouS (OFF TOPIC)
From: BRONX
E-Mail: rug1
May 25, 1998 at 03:09:35 (EDT)

So you savages think you're animals/I manhandle-mammals and leave their heads on-the walls of-my tabernacles/Careful when-you battle,I'll strangle you till-you cough-up your Adams-apple/Unravel your-rap when I-travel your Synapse and PATERA your BACK/CRACK,CRACK,your wack-martyrs like NINO at DECARTER/Why you gonna start-a war you don't want-a part-of/Hit you with-the revolver,and have-you (RE)RUNNING -WHATS-HAPPENING like ROGER/Partna,your mouth like opera with the problem-solver/Leaving your HEAD-PIECES-NIRVANA'D from the SHELL-shocker/Out for-my propers and BOX-a nigga-BLOODY like PUSSY on-the monthly/I'm out-for the money,and stay cruddy when I-am at-this/Niggas lack-talents like clumsy-tactics practiced by drunk gymnasts flipping-acrobatics on a crooked-balance/Who wants-to challenge,HIT you so-hard your GUN will-get SILENCED/My science is allianced-with violence for every-triumph received/From the strong BLOWS I-throw like HOES cause I-got TRICKS up-my sleeve/My levels not gonna-be reached overnight, it's hard to match-this/I snap-necks faster-than whiplash during car-crashes/You could-be 22,have 11 golden-gloves,and-no immune-system getting-laid on-a moving-mattress,and-still couldn't CATCH-this/If your shits JOHN-BLAZE than I'm like BETTY'S-GRANDSON playing-with matches/And-if your shit-is FAT,my raps LYPOSUCTION,diet-pills,and a treadmill/Reducing your rhymes to LOWFAT-skills,leaving bitches FOOTING the-bill like they're TAP-DANCING/And DROPPING-off the DOME from windowsills like the KIDS of ERIC-CLAPTON/Deeply impacting every-fraction of your cranium like KENNEDY/MANSON your family,bringing more-horror than AMITY/Pleeing-insanity whenever battling-me,like you can handle-me/Gradually,SCHOOL your FACULTY with-an F-for-FATALITY.

Name: ANonymouS
From: Bronx
E-Mail: rug1
May 23, 1998 at 17:14:31 (EDT)

THE DEDICATION: TO MY NIGGAS DEAD AND GONE, TO THOSE HANGING ON, AND TRYING TO LIVE LONG THROUGHOUT THE MANY YEARS, DONT FORGET NO MATTER WHERE, IM ALWAYS HERE.

IM AT YOUR SIDE FOREVER NO MATTER WHATEVER THE CAUSE
YA'LL GOT MY BACK AND I GOT YOURS
MY FIRST SOURCE TO PROJECT TURF WARS
AND ROBBING DEPARTMENT STORES
FLEXING, AND SEXING YOUNG WHORES
JUST GETTING OVER AND OF COURSE
WE WENT OUR DIFFERENT PATHS
SOME LED TO LAUGHS AND OTHERS TO BLOODBATHS
AND ON MY BEHALF THE PAIN STILL LASTS
EVENTHOUGH YOU PAST AWILE BACK
ITS NOT THE SAME WITHOUT YOU BLACK
I ROLL BLUNTS AND TIP THE COGNAC
TRYING TO PRESERVE YOUR MEMORIES
DONE IN BY YOUR WORST ENEMIES
OR CAUGHT COMMITTING FELONIES
LOCKED UP AND SENT AWAY
I STILL REMEMBER THE DAYS
WHEN WE FOUGHT IN THE PARK
JAYED AND SPARKED
STAYING OUT WAY AFTER DARK
IT SEEMS LIKE TIME TORN US APART
BUT YOU'LL ALWAYS BE MY HEART
FROM THE START TO THIS DATE
TO ALL MY NIGGAS I MUST DEDICATE.

SHOUTS TO ALL MY REAL PEOPLES WHETHER ALIVE, CAPTIVE OR IN THE ESSENCE.

Name: ANonymouS (NO HITTER)
From: Bronx
E-Mail: rug1
May 21, 1998 at 19:45:21 (EDT)

Strike-1>I'm that assesion in this rap profession/
My verbal distention is past the extension,of your mental comprehension/
So pay attention,or seek pensions from this rap god incarnate/
Valuable traits,the words I articulate make MC's acerbate/
When they try and vindicate their pre-ejaculate acts of bust gats/
Simulate raps in order to masturbate on loose tracks/
Like bad weaves,those deceived now believe,and follow my lead.
Strike-2>There will never be mimicry of my delivery/
Cause verbal abilities change like entropy/
Lyrically my Z therapy,allows me to release energy/
Kinetic,with to much potential to sound pathetic/
Phonetics,move the crowd like telekinetics/
So need I mention,the divine intervention/
My intrepid method is etched in/
Milestones and hieroglyphics/
Artifact linguistics causing statistics/
Out of any nigga that risked it/
Strike-3>And in conclusion,your delusions of street dreams and warfare/
Get turned into nightmares,you should of prepared/
Yourself for your death/
For centuries I've taken destinies,when I manifest/
You won your first battle,the gods not impressed/
There's no lyricist nice enough to approach this omnipotence/
The strongest minds enter my front lines of defense/
And get rendered senseless,when I commence/
Use intelligence,hesitance should take precedence when facing my material/
The equation is simple,my lyrical is metaphysical/
In layman's terms I can't be touched/
And if you want it,I got it nigga,WHAT.

Name: ANonymouS (Skitzo Collabo)
From: Bronx
E-Mail: rug1
May 21, 1998 at 03:04:18 (EDT)

REDRUM>From-The-Sick-Squadron
I'll snatch you from your wip,and strip you naked/Nickel-plated,government-stated, make it blood-related/Me and my click the most-hated,while your shits overrated/You're getting-raided and taken over/Fuck being sober,inebriated soldiers/Assimilated with the venom of a cobra/Mutilated,your body was penetrated before the holster was revealed/This modern-day battlefield gets decided by steel/On the real,reverse my name as I take-aim/Blow your ass out the frame,so fuck what you claim,nigga.

G.O.D>From-The-Top-Notch-Click
Lyrically I expose rappers like Pamela Anderson-Lee/Fucking with me,you'll catch Auto-Immune-Deficiency/When I'm at extremities,I rock for longevity/Nigga,I can't be touched,like I practiced celibacy/Leaving your shit more like massage-therapy/Readily making rappers lose-breath,like Lamaze-class/And like Michael-Jackson's children,I get up in that ass/Then beat-it like a father figure,or Billy D off to much malt liquor/Seriously,the likes of you,can't defeat the likes of me/It's like trying to go to Harvard,with a high school G.E.D.

Epitomy>From-Cypher-Divine
Lyrically my delivery is the epitome of divinity/The industry tries to create a mockery of the M.C./The ministry of the ceremony gets passed to me/Eloquently I cypher cryptically,to wound critically/Diligently I battle infamy on a plane of infinity/Spiritually my verbal mastery is supremacy/My vocal weaponry is deadly in all trajectories/Currency cost casualties get buried with memories/Assault and battery practiced verbally on your anatomy/Battling me results in tragedies,so think carefully.

Name: ZEXEC
From: NY.TN
E-Mail:
May 20, 1998 at 18:50:03 (EDT)

I liquidize your language cause its like dat/
Put a stain on ya steel, laced wit real,
now rewind dat/
Liquididation of ya whole cell anatomy/
Brass knuckles to da skull just cause you
look at me/
Tryna analyze ZEXEC functions n determine
how I rock/
Diagnosed murda, up da block/through ya spot/witta head knock/
Dis drivin force/ wit more horse/
power dan an expidition/dis rendition/
gots da luster and condition/
to wreck and check any ni@@a who wanna flow/
You did'nt know/ma middle name M
for maestro/
And ta set it straight/you made a mistake/
I can be half sleep,
and still got more butta dan land o lakes/
5 fingas wrapped around da steel/
1st dreams explose, den heads git peeled/
Body frags separated n devastated/
ya only soul - incapacitated/
Da haze uf gunpowder circulatin dis murda seen/
white chalk everywhere, I took outcha whole team/
Dis suit of armors been tested/
now u know da flow of ZEXEC is bullet proof vested/
ya shi!is infested/
I'm slappin cuffs on ya ass - you gittin arrested/ fingaprinted n molested/

ZEXEC OUT YO...PEACE

ZEXEC OUT. PEACE.

Name: OPYN - MYC a.k.a MIC - CHEKK
From: CHI - ILL (COMIN' FROM DA GO, ILL STATE FO SHO)
E-Mail: DEMCEE
May 19, 1998 at 16:18:45 (EDT)

CHI - ILL/ SHINE FOREVA/ LIKE STAINLESS STEEL/DA SICKEST/ MY LYRICS/
DIAGNOSED TERMINALLY ILL/ OPYN - MYC DA REAL DEAL/ BATTLE DA DEVIL IN A
HOLYFIELD/ DAT INFAMOUS BATTLE KAT/ DAT ADAPT TO ANY HABITAT/ SEEIN'
THROUGH YOU LIKE FIBERGLASS/ BEFORE I SHATTA THAT/ GOT YOULIKE A
HATCHBAK/ DURING A SPINAL TAP/ MATTA FACT/ MY SKILLZ IS WELL ROUNDED LIKE
A HUNCHBAKK/ FOR ALL THOSE WHO CLAIM JOHN BLAZE/ AND SPIT FLAME/ I GUZZLE
ACID RAIN/ BURP THUNDA/ AND SPIT LIGHTNING/ FREESTYLE IN LATIN/ BATTLE DA
POPE/ UP IN DA VATICAN/ KICK STYLES PHATTA THEN/ ROG'S MOM'S ON WHAT'S
HAPPENING/ LACE FLOS SO COLD/ THEY LEAVE MY TEETH CHATTERING/ YOU EAT ME/
I'M FOOD POSIONING TO YA ADOMEN/ WIT DA MIC DEVICE/ I'M NICE LIKE MOTHA
THERESA/ OPYN - MYC A ILL NIGGA/ OUT FOR RESPECT LIKE ARETHA/ A PROFIT/ LIKE
DA TERRAPIN FROM MARYLAND/ MY RHYMES STAY TIGHT/ LIKE DA PANTS ON ROBIN
AND HIS MERRYMEN/ IN VERBAL WARFARE/ I GETLIKE CESARIAN/ I'M CLEVER
WHEN/ YA FREESTLYES BE FALLONIOUS/ THE PHONIEST/ EMCEES I TURN TO
MONKS/LIKE THELONIOUS/ SO BRING YA TITLE/ IN CHI- ILL SKILLZ IS VITAL/ I TAP
DAT ASS/ LIKE SAVION GLOVER/ IN A RECITAL/ STRAIGHT FROM DA GO/ COMES
FUNDAMENTAL FOUNDATION/ LEAVE OTHA CRUS/ LOST FOR WORDS/ LIKE
SUFFOCATION

Name: JoeKamel aka DstraughtThoughts
From: HydePark,Chi,Illanoyze
E-Mail: midwaymonsta
May 18, 1998 at 20:01:25 (EDT)

terror on terrafirma//mic burner write
murder//and whoop ass like Ike Turner//calibrated
phonetics//sending these niggaz to paramedics//
violent verbal assualt that vanish in radio edit//
vocal cataclysm composition//broken thought terrorism//
dstraught linguist with lethal diction//
i stand calm//in the eye of this desert storm//
holding cyclones in my palms//releasing vertigo
at false alarms//poisonous barbs//in the form of bars//
from bards//sentence fragment shards//that scar your guards//
i speak with bad intensions//in violent progression//
dispensing skewed perceptions//making mics smolder//
out the holster//deadly like a cobra on cola//
my grill registers the measure//of my displeasure//
disperse a burst//of living lightning when i converse//
immerse ya in hurt or a hearse//cock a mic and blast first//
i'm underground so each verse//i spit a mouthful of dirt//
giving the earth//tremors//
my style is cold fission releasing nuclear winters//
then spark a B off the microphone's embers.....

Name: Psychlone
From: Marysville,WA
E-Mail: psychlone
May 18, 1998 at 11:05:51 (EDT)

on a manhunt
for kids who try to be what they not
remain at large for a while
but slip up and get caught
and get sentenced
to 25 years of hard labor
the sabre I swing will bring
danger to my neighbor
cause sometimes I lose control when I'm
drivin to the hole
put my soul in the game
yeah I'm butta but I'm not on a roll
I'm on a neverending streak
from week to week
I keep on goin overflowin wit ill tecnique
to psyche out would be opponents
it only takes three components
a voice, mic, and speaker commercial rap
I cant condone it
abhor it
the counter attack is soon recorded
boarded on last call
wit a big pack of assorted
flavas
forget all the trying to be saviors
I'm the messiah here to rid hip-hop
of wrong behaviors
skills sharper than razors
wit years of fine tunin
I stay grounded while fools hit fame
and heads start balloonin

Name: ANonymouS feat. XXX
From: (Bronx to Strong Island) AKA GUNHILL
E-Mail: rug1
May 17, 1998 at 14:19:04 (EDT)

XXX-The-Verbal-Flame-thrower:
MC's catch-wreck from my lyrical-techs/Your pussies get wet,cause I raped your whole-set/We can rendez-vous,your crew vs. mine/No doubt,I'll handle you with my illiodic-shines/I'll beat you like your pops,parental-discretion advised/I've done you up before,so it should come as no surprise/That your demise is evident,as I get-set/To assume my title as lyrical-president/The verbal-assasin,snipin MC's at close range/I fucked you so hard,you still spitting my cum-stains/Niggas get ate up by this lyrical cannibal/Weak MC's I spit out of my mandible/Run through your area,like Carthage and Hannibal/Niggas don't understand,my lyrics are intangible.
ANonymouS-From-the-Great-Unknown:
The god moves on squads in camouflage-fatigues/Catching bodies in degrees,MC's couldn't believe/Me and my team,the third-regime,Ends it by All-Means/We-fiend for cream,tropical scenes,and dime-queens/So what it seems,gets sown,come imbetween my dreams,and get chrome/Until my last-breath is gone,its-on,till I seek a level-higher/I stay spitting-rounds through your over-priced-attire/Niggas-expire,and like Richard-Prior,get caught under-fire/The rap-messiah,is always prepared for warfare/Look in the mirror,call my-name,I'll be right-there/Stay aware,this love-affair,could get you fucked and left at intensive-care/I like my beef-rare,my dogs bare their teeth to tare/While the doctors standing-over-you screaming clear/Your just-not built to last like mine,my physical is at pinnacle close to divine/Incarcerate your rhymes by-permanently shutting your mouth/You took to long to respond,so now your time-ran-out.

Name: JoeKamel aka DstraughtThoughts
From: HYdePark, Chi, Illanoyze
E-Mail: midwaymonsta
May 15, 1998 at 02:29:20 (EDT)

i burn so hot i make three-quarters of the globe evaporate//then bring it back with the flow that i ejaculate//tryin to battle me betta chew that shit over or masticate//i crack mics when i "solo flex" and verbally masturbate//leave crews bruised//whether sober, blunted or off brews//spit like a tommygun while ya ain't even a .22//caliber//enlisted in the pro union, while yous still an
amatuer//just lie down and pose for the chalk outline and camera//end up on Unsolved Mysteries//hopin that you get at least a footnote in the 1990's hip-hop anthology or history//spittin half-assed thoughts while i spit
epiphanies//givin pressure Exedrin can't stop//cut off flow to ya top
and deaden ya knot//trying to be a heart-throb, i'll make ya
bitch ass heart stop//we can throw hands, throw words, and if it comes to it, throw rounds from glocks//ya only
endangering ya spot//couldn't hold me, even if i was ya tenderoni//couldn't hold me, like a black man trying to
catch a cab from downtown to Stoney//these pony express beatings that you recieving homie//is from the one and only//its COD//i guarantee Concussions On
Delivery//even when reading this script, niggaz say they "hearing" me//

Name: JoeKamel aka DstraughtThoughts
From: HydePark, Chi,Illa
E-Mail: midwaymonsta
May 14, 1998 at 12:11:02 (EDT)

i possess a fascination//with character assassination//turning mcs into public relations patients//lyrical fermentation//that brings germination of your termination//scorch mics at heavenly degrees thats burnin Satan//and dare retaliation//battle in between the lines and double apostrophes of quotations//freeform ritual's habitual//leading to obituaries thats non-fictional//i alone cause price increases on headache medicinals//spittin flows of precious mineral//type quality//swingin mics at high velocities//to shatter foreheads and cause lobotomies//dishing out atrocities as policy//no apologies//foreclose on intellectual properties//strappin on mics for this vicious sodomy//like inertia, ain't no stopping me//impale ya psyche with these castigations//have ya essence evacuating//your spiritual and
physical collaboration//and
still give ya soul multiple lacerations//infatuations with
retaliation//and hate//makes me emanate//with rage that
resonates//thru this ILLstate//before
my time up and dissipate//and sands of time disintegrate//a
derelict with no direction//spittin sound wave projectiles to
cave ya
chest in//my
"tongue of flame" give apostolic blessings//this 3.5 oz
weapon//got buddha injection//with air bags for
protection//cuz of how i be mic wreckin//from my quarantined
section//got a terminal infection of vocal
bedlam//that kills with indiscretion//subtracting niggas that
think they fly from outta where they "nesting"//the truth hurts,
and i'm only teaching painful lessons....

Name: ANonymouS
From: Bronx
E-Mail: rug1
May 13, 1998 at 16:41:04 (EDT)

Reminisce-over-your-life

Ayo,negro pass the Mo so I could get Wet/My lifelines designed with crimes I can't forget/To far-for regret,keeping my mind-set on assets/Slow-steps and raw-sex got me making ass-bets/Promising threats against rival-Aztecs,moving on sets/Incarcerated-connects accept upstate-collects/Spent-checks on the X get sent to the next/
Gillette-flex on your deck,out for street-respect/Get wrecked-off the Becks, drunk dodging-techs/Represent my projects,till my soul gets-kept/Never-slept,praying to resurrect my brother P/Physical body destinied in ninety-three,one L.O.V.E./Keep the family,always till the death of me/Losing my street embassy,spilling Hennessey in your memory/Closed casket,concrete-combat with bastards/Close-attacks almost got me blasted/Hit the liquor than pass-it,on the jack drop-tracks/With facts,roll the fat-black and let my man keep-that/
On my rooftops smoked-out with my pops,rock the Scotch till my cup-drops/Last-shots got me booked by cops,almost locked but the charges-copped/In the streets niggas get dropped,hustling on the block,out for props/Making-moves before my heart gets stopped and boxed/So what am I facing,incarceration,free basing,and money-chasing/Trials and tribulations got me losing-concentration/
Suicide-contemplation,got me in my room pacing-up and down/
What I found,would change any man's life-around/Making sure before I dig-ground,I teach my little-man knowledge of-self/Cause for years the god desecrated himself,following behind wealth and greed/Spreading the wisdom to bleed through all my young seeds.

Name: Dee Phunk
From: Strong Island, NY (we're takin' over)
E-Mail: deephunk
May 12, 1998 at 21:25:40 (EDT)

You know who this is, reporting for duty
Rollin' thru competition like my name was Tudy
Improper work is not acceptable
Throwin' trash emcees in the proper receptacles
Sentimentally freakin' while I am generally speakin'
Blind to my rhyme design but I caught you peekin'
Cats that act wack on tracks mockin' raps
Make as much sense as a dread rockin' a stockin' cap
Pay attention kiddies and you might learn somethin'
You talk behind my back but at the same time frontin'
Suprisingly I'm rising B.
Put your mind where my rhymes can see and vibe with me
To get more info peep my pro-files
As I break it down for you broken language style
The go-getter, the mo-better, the nigga that turned Freddy Krueger into a chronic bed wetter, the son-setter, the word spreader, the dead skin shedder
Never forget, uh...the 4th Letter.

Name: Dee Phunk
From: Strong Island, NY (act like U want it)
E-Mail: deephunk
May 12, 1998 at 02:45:15 (EDT)

As I identify my station peep the demonstration
You can't enter my world without the proper identification
Only true emcees can enter upon their request
All I've heard so far is your worst so now please try your best
Treat suckas like palmed dice leavin 'em shook
The same that couldn't get busy if they left the phone off the hook
Lecture to the masses, create debates the fastest
Quick to flip on a trick like Dwayne Wayne's sunglasses
Then rippin' mics apart when I start my verbal art
Even in the dark I can see thru you right to your weak ass heart
Cardiac arrest is what is left when I blessed you with the best
Lyrics that I got, your flow is a pig sty, clean up your mess
Every time I return I've been known to drop more goodies
Tight like when you pull the strings in front of your hoodie
Strip you like tissue cuz now I'm on a roll
Plan to be everywhere at once like ANonymouS on the Survivor Scroll
So come test me if you want cuz I'm always prepared
Leave the true headz with a smile and the rest I leave scared.

Name: DJ TWON on da solo tip
From: 520-AZ (rather be in Cancun)
E-Mail: andarge
May 11, 1998 at 14:51:20 (EDT)

Ayo�

Like Rakim �it's been a long time� since I�ve dropped in da Arena/ (M)onitoring (YA) flows but now �itz all about me�/ with Special Forces I overthrow ZEXEC like he was a communist state/ writin� rhymes, battling nigguhs before he learned to conjugate/ many imply religious wisdom by using surnames like ALLAH/ then contradict yah diction engaging in a fraternity (brew)HA/ I underscore lyrics with postwar C-4/ my wardrobe consists of a playaz decor/ eyez get paralyzed as if I had titties like Tyra Banks/ underground ranks get charged when I bring a roman phalanx/ history seems to agree with me when you put my shit on repeat/ run circles around nigguhs verbal with ethiopian feet/ you move with the speed of a turtle I bring INTEL to the table/ dismissing your literature like one of Aesops fables/ I pity predictable wannabes that tote the same old script/ with limericks outdated and more than twice flipped/ overrated MC�s get no respect from true hiphop characters/ vocalize just to be heard like they were US Senators/ forgive me ZEXEC if you got caught up in the T(won)ornado/ meteorologists can�t predict the direction of this El Nino/

props ZEXEC

Name: Odyssey
From: Buffalo,ny
E-Mail: Dan.Martin3
May 10, 1998 at 14:13:03 (EDT)

I'' battle you in the air/I'll battle you in the sea/i'll battle you while your girl is on top of me/I'll battle you in any size,shape, or form/i'll battle you while i transform like voltron/i'll battle in heaven or in this life we call hell/in concrete warzone's-i got 2 many stories to tell/I'll battle in any place even on the net/we remain incognito-i'll take you out like we met/prepare for war/strap on ya camouflage/i'll rock you from here to Queen City/i'll conquer you even before this battle starts/ This here is ODYSSEY AKA The Born Soldier/ I'll form ya/like hot wax kid i'll mold ya/ This here's the end of the supreme biengs rise/Step in the arena-look into my eyes.

Name: Dee Phunk
From: Strong Island, NY (act like you know)
E-Mail: deephunk
May 08, 1998 at 20:54:39 (EDT)

As time passes on and each battle progresses
I see myself having to get a little more aggressive
Seems that this time I have to delve a little deeper
Bringing knowledge to the clueless and waking up all the sleepers
Takeovers subconciously entering inside your dreams
Slipping thru holes, cracks, seams and infrared beams
Once I'm in I go to work immediate
I know you're working slow but I'm forever expedient
Destroying corrupt areas and erasing other emcee similarities
Disconnecting networks and reversing polarities
My way's the fly way, the lyrical superhighway
Speed limits infinite and prosecute those that look sideways
Finish the task fast and I'm out as fast as I enter
Your brain's been inflamed now I'm your mental epicenter
Control you by remote with all the shit that I wrote
No need for foreign objects, pens and mics what I tote
And for those that might misinterpret my technical dialect
I consistently catch wreck and in return get mad respect.

Name: ANonymouS
From: Bronx
E-Mail: rug1
May 08, 1998 at 08:42:24 (EDT)

My next verse,I immerse in percent/submerge the extent,of truth/get bent past 80 proof/like moonshine leave youths blind/rhyme after rhyme,met in synck/when you blink,I'm mixed into your drink/don't think, the cups at the brink of your lips/feel it tips,as you get blitzed in a state of hypnosis/over dosage induced/your thought process nused,and hung over/your wishes to be sober,sting like soldier ants/pants and cramps in the dark dance with shadows/your entranced from a staggered stance/Carefull,by chance I enter your mouth/then take a route straight south/and soon escalate in your stomach/your toughts plummet,as I become one wit the liquor/the lyrics I deliver destroy livers/and send shivers,from cold punctures/ripped kidney structures/left ruptured with each collision/crashing apparitions left out of commision/ instinct takes over your mistakes/your head aches,mental weight at a point break/ you catch shakes,from the rate of intoxication/suicide temptations fill the duration of your stay/maylays surround you as you run from the sound/in haste,you grab ground laced,man down/the foul taste left in your mouth/and through your waste, I make my way out.
PROPS TO THOSE THAT RESPECT.
YO DEEPHUNK IM FEELING YA KID.

Name: t@d@ inc.
From: south jerzee
E-Mail: tada13
May 06, 1998 at 11:42:03 (EDT)

i come from greatness
and there's no room to debate this
african queen
i be
with none of that fake sh . . .
real hair, real nails, real eyes
with black woman thighs
civilized
with entire empires
bowing down at my feet
i refuse to accept defeat
so i'm battlin'
all my adversaries
and at times it gets scary
so i stay wary
of all these niggers
pullin' triggers
'cause they can't figure
that that's part of the plot
to take what we got
african kings and queens
educated, the supreme
nawatimean?

Name: SaKiV
From: Reading
E-Mail: vkb
May 05, 1998 at 13:04:52 (EDT)

Thoughts flow deeper than fathoms/take a chance son/battling till you sink like Crimson/sumbmarine, underwater flows/ murder demons, closing off your airholes/
can't breath, suffering by suffocating I suppose/causing fatalities like two Aids infected hoes/blow away competition, spitting herroundous bad venom/tired of repition, kicking tremendous facts to get up in 'em/once in their minds it's all simple phsychology/painting images of you in your fake frontin wallabees/with your fake cigar, fake teeth, and fake clothes/
now you resort to violence you fake- frontin homo/got you strapped to your chair begging for more bread/drops of water,one by one,landing on your forehead/
you scream for your misery, demanding a quick death/now substitute the water for my furious lyrics that I manifest/directly to ya' chest, ripping you to nothingness/
peace to the true hip-hop heads, fuck the rest/

Name: ANonymouS
From: Bronx
E-Mail: rug1
May 04, 1998 at 21:49:13 (EDT)

First of all, I never quoted a bitch before/
So when you read my rhymes, you'll see none of yours/
You want to fuck around with the uncut RAW/
Matter of fact, reverse that, lets go to WAR/
The rooftop assasin, smashing paragraphs of monetary transactions/
Who wants action, Im snatching kids faster than Michael Jackson/
Ripping up the occasion, like Haitians stuck in police stations/
Suffocating your administration, for exagerating/
So dont act like you could ever damage this/
Im scandalous, when spitting brimstone adjectives/
Burning these dumb asses, for shitting like laxatives/
Waxing kids, you couldn't master this with shackles and whips/
You aint equiped to fuck with my lyrics, so put away your dick/
You lack appeal, get knocked out the field like Tyson did Holyfield/
Now switch that around, and catch the real deal/
Ya'll need to learn, when you play with fire, your gonna get burned/
This goes out, to whom it may concern.

(Much love to those that show me support)

Name: ANonymouS
From: Bronx
E-Mail: rug1
May 04, 1998 at 16:19:17 (EDT)

I-used to love-her,but I lost-her to another/I-try-to recover,get her-back from this other-brother/who knows no-better,keeps her-dipped in leather/ostrich feathers,anything she-wants he'll get-her/cannabis-embraced-lips,persist to create shopping-lists/from Chanell,Dona-Karen,Pelle-Pell,Moschino, Versache,as-well/blessed with Guess,to finesse-her daily-attire/Gator-boots desired,cars-fired to admire/fueled by-her messiahs-envy/so-called-felonies,jeweled with jealousy/only-remedy,known-as the Hennessey/or maybe,Alize and Crystal/her-everyday-lifestyle ran by-the pistal,or pushing-keys/criminal in different-degrees/10-percent-pedigree, living on her-knees/waiting-to violate/they-debated,he ejaculates/she-became impregnated with hip-hop's fate/another worthless-MC-consummated,as-of late/her worlds-breaking,she keeps faking/taking what she-can/her-man felt the-sword,a known-fraud,got his mic-chord-pulled,by the old-school/wanted to shine,so he-got his golden ruled at sun-set/she-can't forget,so every-chance she-gets/she lays-down with her pussy-wet/exposed with spread-thighs,getting-pushed-deeper-inside/cries-out in screams-of-orgasm/then has-dreams like-cytoplasm/of cell-blocks,well-hung-cocks,strung-rocks, and-fired-glocks/her-mind focused on-the future/led-by a bogus-tutor/to-think,I thought I knew-her/her-main-role,is to let-niggas screw-her/and try-to make-her-flow/she-lost her-soul to the-blow,and-the glass-pipe/it would-seem to her,that last-night/was-just a plight-for-salary/but-in reality,her-family is at-odds/and trying-hard,to make the-best/the next-morning her-dad-confessed,and left/he-moved to the west,in a-hurry-for a piece/leaving-the-earth to the east/she-thought she was rising-like-yeast,but-fell/no-more clientele,no-more sales/living-through the anguish/she-found it hard-to-manage/her-whole-world was-damaged/no-way to improve,so-back to-the-streets she-moved/like before,a body-of-wisdom she began to-explore/archives,where sense-was-common-lives,not homicides/but knowledge-of your roots-and-soul/the truth-in-whole of her quest/was now to invest on a new-profit/money no-longer the topic,discussed/she-bust straight from the-dark/I saw her sitting in the park,so I said my-part/she began to start-to listen/my-mission,is to spark-her beliefs/and from-our reunion,hip-hop was once-again-conceived.

Name: ANonymouS
From: Bronx
E-Mail: rug1
May 03, 1998 at 21:45:29 (EDT)

I combine my rhyme with the cannabis plant/eyes slant,EZ-wide twisted/reside as you get lifted/place the blunt to your lips/embrace the hit,take a toke/while chocolate smoke runs down your throat/you go for broke,then hesitate/choke from the resonate,that's left/you take false steps/exhale your last breath,shorter than the rest/your mind caress the Buddha ses/as you get blessed,trying to alleviate the stress/with each hit you manifest your high feeling/keeps the head reeling/your dealing with the shine/finally the divine,has entered your passage/cold winter ravaged your brain/while intense pain forms a migraine/as I tame your vocal pipes,your insides are ripe/for my flight to kryptonite your chest cavity/you lose gravity,as I take over your anatomy/you clean with visene/as I proceed to be unseen/and enter your blood stream/in each artery,a part of me runs free/spreading like cancer/you cause problems,I solve'em with answers/my only function,is the corruption of your physical/destruction of your mental/sentinal to your state of being/rhymes keep fleeing through your cells/you cant tell/then suddenly exhale me from your frame/eyes burn like flames,out for the fame like james/now I own your name,with each word I proclaim your death/murderous steps,quite as kept.

Name: XXX feat. ANonymouS
From: Strong Island to the Bronx
E-Mail: rug1
May 03, 1998 at 05:38:35 (EDT)

XXX:Real-niggas on some verbal-assault shit/handing out a lyrical ass-whip/representing Gun-Hill-to Bushwick/bucking-faggots who suck-dick/our teams got shit-locked without keys/busting AK's and M3's/dedicated to all DJ's and MC's that dont sip Dom-P in jet-skies/
ANS:Me and my fam are blood-related to these city-streets/spitting asphalt lyrics,chalk-written on the concrete/speak,when spoken-to,nothing sweet when heats involved/guns revolve,memmories-dissolve,when problems get solved/pound-for-pound defending my crown in these stomping-grounds/
XXX:Me and ANonymouS,lyrics-synonymous with dominance/slashing-crews like tires in our rise to prominance/so honor-us as we bless the microphone/cause we got this rap-game-sewn,so bitch-niggas go home/
ANS:Word on my nigga XXX,I lost to much to forget/my older-brother-dead,wet by techs for a street-rep/got-me upset blazing blunts and pouring-liquor for all my niggas/those-that couldn't take-it,those that couldn't make-it/I-speak from the heart,words are always real,never faked-it/
XXX:Two sick-type-niggas on an ill collaboration/calling-out MC's who bite rhymes like dictation/consider yourself warned, you'll catch verbal abbrasions/from the illest-MC's you wouldn't dream-about facing/
ANS:Murderous-tactics practiced to extract the wackness/most niggas lack-this,you match-this,blasphemous/disasterous,most theactrics get blasted-backwords/when drastic-measures get taken,get buried with your treasure/your soul has been forsaken,who could do-it-better/we assasinate dead-president-rhymers,and chart-climbers/you could be stuck in a virgins-vagina,and still couldn't cum tighter/than two verbal-snipers-spitting platinum-bullets/if you have something to say,than pull-it/but if you aint in-it to win-it,shut-your-mouth, and get the fuck-out.

Name: Dee Phunk
From: Strong Island, NY (not the boondocks though...)
E-Mail: deephunk
May 02, 1998 at 20:34:31 (EDT)

Brainwaves transmit shit to help you maintain
Your composure plus give you a little light exposure
Cuz if you want to shine in this world of mine
You have to come correct or hit the back of the line
Guaranteed to give you what you need
And bringin' you higher than any common home grown weed
Some emcees don't agree with me and like cookies, get tossed
This is my pretty little world, I'm the lyrical Bob Ross
Paintin' mental pictures to burn in your brain
And I sign all my work so ya'll remember my name
Try to dim my light and I'll just burn brighter
And I'll return once again to spark it like an empty lighter.

Name: SaKiV
From: Reading
E-Mail: vkb
May 01, 1998 at 23:26:48 (EDT)

City nights with visions of beauty/
benelovant sights inscribed into a movie/
insights that can't be captured on a fuji/
rather confined to my heart, it moves me/
without dull kids that turn into culprits/
rather ones that are smart/don't turn to guns but their heart/culture becomes hip-hop/influential and street-smart/
by ejecting racism and injecting a common rythym/take one step and get schooled by my righteous wisdom/no violence, just unity through the underground/everybody smiling, our duty to bring the dope sound/ fuck statistics, they're concentrated with negativity/ we gotta hold it down like Das and cause effectivety/auspiciously my mind
accelerates with creativity/in actuality
originality is as rare as sensitivity/
1,2 many MC's wanna be hard it's killin me

Name: Nawur
From: Brooklyn NYC
E-Mail: appoc1
May 01, 1998 at 16:59:57 (EDT)

You talk of Lyrical Gacks,
I touch your Waste Line If so Where's it at?,
Please,
Next Time Just Highlight What you wrote and hit delete,
Just Because You Battling Over Da Net doesnt mean that we will never meet...
allow me to keep it short and sweet,
Besides, Right bout now you probably jerking off in your seat...

Name: Derelict
From: New Jeru
E-Mail: derelict
May 01, 1998 at 15:02:06 (EDT)

Dee Phunk, I didn't actually come here to battle, but if I did it would go a little somethin' like this . . .

Groove and stylin'/
Smooth like a violin/
Rough enuff to rip wack chumps from Long Island/
Similes and metaphors, I kick meta 5's
Convert your ass to Ghetto Queen like Mary J Blige . . .

Ha!
Is on the set