Post by Los Tha Don on Aug 24, 2006 0:24:17 GMT -5
board.soundclick.com/viewtopic.php?p=1250358#1250358
~~~ROUND ONE~~~
Los Tha Don:
So I'm bending my own rules a bit, takin tha first shot at B Lack/
Talkin bout he's scared of the front line because he just got back/2
I'll leave him flabbergasted, outlasted, trapped and stranded/
Hold his tracks up, I'm the bandit, he's the beef to get branded/4
Watch an see how Los dismantles, you resemble the 9-11 disaster/
The way you break down then redial so the cops would come faster/6
No wonder you self-hate, berate yourself, your reply now I await/
To see exactly how you analyze an decide what to cut n paste/8
My name packs a ring while this B Lacks a sting/
Convert to human terms, between his legs he don't got a thing/10
To beat me you'll take more swings than the no-hit batter/
I'm eating your food sucka, and YOU'RE the one getting fatter/12
I'm the one to beat, top of my class, how you fancy the facts?/
Truth is you'll probably forget to battle, listening to my tracks/14
My drive to beat you is sudden, you'll have a panic attack/
I'll call you Robert Downey Junior, you've got a bad rap/16
Arise to the occasion, your situation is like "hit the sack"/
Always on point when I bout, your direction like "where's the map?"/18
That's all for you, cover your clues, scuff your shoes, death is due/
You're a FLAKE like cheap shampoo, sloppy like a cheap tattoo/20
B.Lack
Now i know you think u got metaphors and u believe u got some mediocrity of word~play/
But if you're spittin oxymorons about your last bar, honestly, what do your words~say?//
Cuz i dont wanna damage~ya~life but it aint my fault of u cant handle~the mic/
So once yo ustart gettin ya metaphors right, then maybe you could hold a candle~to~mike/ (my old s/n was mike fischer if ya aint know)
Cuz honestly if i resemble 9-11, then I'm a tattered star with stripes in the middle that reveals the history's scars as i scribble/
So now you can say your sad remark and ill play the fiddle, because my rhymes are like an unsolveable riddle// (yes there are multies in there but i didnt feel like bracketing them)
Call me the godfather, cuz i give out contract hits, so he knows that he Lost The Don/
As the lyrical symbol of excelence, you can call me the paragon// (meh)
---gettin gritty---
Cuz this hoe is like a bulldog wit no teeth, all bark and no bite/
Have em shakin in his Timbs like a midget epiliptic trapped inside a 4-footed srtobe light//
So stop actin n playin like ou can beat me, just nuke he hatin/
We all know im hotta the the diraphragm of a chick wit VD urinatin//
Cuz im rude but i got some respect, i carry a pillow around/
Cuz if i puta nigga to sleep wit da pistol he can be comfortable on da ground//
And on these streets, there aint no time for patience/
I'll have da pump in ya mouth like an asthma patient//
Kid you're the worst, and believe me brutha the plan works/
Cuz if you try to schedule another battle or show, u gotta win back your fans first///
~~~ROUND ONE~~~
Los Tha Don:
So I'm bending my own rules a bit, takin tha first shot at B Lack/
Talkin bout he's scared of the front line because he just got back/2
I'll leave him flabbergasted, outlasted, trapped and stranded/
Hold his tracks up, I'm the bandit, he's the beef to get branded/4
Watch an see how Los dismantles, you resemble the 9-11 disaster/
The way you break down then redial so the cops would come faster/6
No wonder you self-hate, berate yourself, your reply now I await/
To see exactly how you analyze an decide what to cut n paste/8
My name packs a ring while this B Lacks a sting/
Convert to human terms, between his legs he don't got a thing/10
To beat me you'll take more swings than the no-hit batter/
I'm eating your food sucka, and YOU'RE the one getting fatter/12
I'm the one to beat, top of my class, how you fancy the facts?/
Truth is you'll probably forget to battle, listening to my tracks/14
My drive to beat you is sudden, you'll have a panic attack/
I'll call you Robert Downey Junior, you've got a bad rap/16
Arise to the occasion, your situation is like "hit the sack"/
Always on point when I bout, your direction like "where's the map?"/18
That's all for you, cover your clues, scuff your shoes, death is due/
You're a FLAKE like cheap shampoo, sloppy like a cheap tattoo/20
B.Lack
Now i know you think u got metaphors and u believe u got some mediocrity of word~play/
But if you're spittin oxymorons about your last bar, honestly, what do your words~say?//
Cuz i dont wanna damage~ya~life but it aint my fault of u cant handle~the mic/
So once yo ustart gettin ya metaphors right, then maybe you could hold a candle~to~mike/ (my old s/n was mike fischer if ya aint know)
Cuz honestly if i resemble 9-11, then I'm a tattered star with stripes in the middle that reveals the history's scars as i scribble/
So now you can say your sad remark and ill play the fiddle, because my rhymes are like an unsolveable riddle// (yes there are multies in there but i didnt feel like bracketing them)
Call me the godfather, cuz i give out contract hits, so he knows that he Lost The Don/
As the lyrical symbol of excelence, you can call me the paragon// (meh)
---gettin gritty---
Cuz this hoe is like a bulldog wit no teeth, all bark and no bite/
Have em shakin in his Timbs like a midget epiliptic trapped inside a 4-footed srtobe light//
So stop actin n playin like ou can beat me, just nuke he hatin/
We all know im hotta the the diraphragm of a chick wit VD urinatin//
Cuz im rude but i got some respect, i carry a pillow around/
Cuz if i puta nigga to sleep wit da pistol he can be comfortable on da ground//
And on these streets, there aint no time for patience/
I'll have da pump in ya mouth like an asthma patient//
Kid you're the worst, and believe me brutha the plan works/
Cuz if you try to schedule another battle or show, u gotta win back your fans first///