Diss The Bitch Above You Cypher

My bitch left with who's kids? I'll just say this finesse,
And I'm only gonna say it cuz once I say it it's said,
I have no kids, it's like zombies with a lady in bed,
Pull your weapon out, shoot, and aim for the head,
Fuck you think I'm tryna support a wife?
Settle down, start a family n have a normal life?
Get a dog, get old, get bored n die?
It's us vs them in this mortal fight and the world's too small for us all to hide,
Think I take Mandela's name in vain, pussy not one bit,
You see I BM cuz you get nowhere sat wondering what IF

I just lost patience with this gun in my grips ,
Shoot your brain ,
Pull my sleeve up when I'm blowin the tips ,
I'm boxin you in ,
Its mandatory that you aint flimsy ,
Cuz you can't win a chicks heart over in your dickies ,
You can't be an embarrasment when you ride around in the city ,
that'd be a joke for everyones memry (memory) ,
To think about the last thoughts ,
With a guage at bag ,
I stay shootin shirts like a mascot , (mascots shoot those shirts out of those big nerf guns)
I'm never outta way when I blast off ,
I'm puttin up twin eagle shots gravitatin to bags grand lodge ,

deleted by me

@ Ill Finesse

I already said most of the shit which rhymes with Ill Finesse...
Fuck it... there’s a few which still are left.
Whilst you’re alone at home abusing pills and cess...
I’m in the Clockwork Orange milk bar with my droogs on synthemesc.
I’m rocking roman robes over a winter vest with Fila creps.
Your shit’s basic and boring and the name is a warning... Ill Finesse?
Your fam must be as embarrassed as the Cosbys after Bill’s arrest.
I’ll milk your pets, and pour it in your morning coffee.
I went on a beer run, accidentally bought an offie.
Chucking my guts up in the sink’s an awesome hobby.
Jesus Christ’s grandaddy, lah, I’m more than godly.
I’m sorta sorry. then again I’m sorta not.
I kicked your bitch out my bed because she snores a lot.
Call the cops, fuck it, fam, I’ll call em first...
Feed em false information on the gravesite just to stall the search.
I never walk to church, damn, they carry me on palanquins.
I’m the reason Eden’s packed with massive plants of cannabis.
A pacifist, and if you say I ain’t I’ll slit your throat.
I rock a businessman tie with white Nikes and a wizard coat.
When police interrogate me I only speak in RZA quotes,
Spud the judge if he can name one tune which Dilla wrote.
A misanthrope. I’ll sleep when I’m dead or when I’m out of spliffs to toke.
A simple bloke but friggin’ dope. I told the cunt to pipe the fuck down when inner wisdom spoke.
I set fire to my house just for a hit of smoke coz my rizla broke.
Got ordained for sainthood when I tricked the pope...
Now I’m laid back getting fed grapes by religious folk.
They say this shit’s a slippy slope...
I’m at the top, ready to push you back down with a single poke.
I had to dump my ex girl... off of a fishing boat.
Damn, where’s my oar, I didn’t think the bitch would float.
Knocked at local houses, asking for some string or rope,
Plus a heavy object, and a car so I can ditch the po’.
Plus a cold Stella, and an egg and chips to go.
Set fire to my house coz I forgot what spot I hid the dro.
Shit, this is just how I do, in case you didn’t know.
Real talk, my whip’s for show, I travel as a distant crow.
My home ain’t got a basement, just a bottomless abyss below.
But it’s got a massive attic where my favourite victims stowed.
I’m sniffing snow, like I’m a mountain rescue tracker hound.
I hang around battlegrounds and rock a Greek god’s hand me downs.
I reply to deep insightful shit with random sounds.
I made a huge stew from the white rabbit Alice found,
And ran a poker hustle from the red queen’s palace grounds.
Y’all just clap and wow as I thank and bow.
I prayed to god, got what I wanted, then abandoned vows.
Now god prays to me, in fact that motherfucker’s damn devout,
He arranges fetes and bakes cakes to raise papes for my bank account,
And calls door to door, like, “please... Virb needs a ganja ounce,
Any donation would do, even a gram would count...?”

I got that Kid Icarus heat ,
Studyin this beef cuz I been in the streets ,
This special metal gets shot ,
poppin virb past his vest ,
My skills burn you like a vat at McDonalds to your death ,
You aint it ,
Cuz I'll kill virb with just the cool breeze of my spits ,
Look in the books ,
Scholastics ,
Cuz I'll school ya ,
I'll blow the slugs an inch through your torso on a ruler ,
It don't take much to bomb you on my computer ,
I'm flyin in confinement of the skies ,
while virb is below in a Uber ,
I take the looks of black shades ,
goin terminator to ya ,
and put chryogenics on you,
till your body feels cooler ,
Virb your a heavy weight ,
But I aint been afraid often ,
to dig this beef up like "benjamin's" ,
outta my grave "pockets" ,
Virb can't see Soar Kaid ,
Virb can't find him ,
Cuz if you peaked my rhymes in speed ,
its like a S-Class flyin ,
like a drink with a pierced olive ,
Don't try it ,
You spit that zirconia light flow ,
and I only speak diamonds ,
Sell drugs but you push "cane" like an "old timer" ,
You must be an old rhymer ,
Your raps is like tryin to unscramble the code of an old cypher ,
Why turn your music up ,
spendin and hearin 70's notes in a old diner ,
I'm close to a minor ,
Dual bullets shot ,
it'll be the death of you when they both find ya

Secret Killer Skew Style...

I'll pop my gun and have you floatin on top of a creek ,
Then take a flight to escape the charges of the precinct ,
My dude aint no peace ,
When the flames is sparkin from the K ,
leavin you in disarray ,
Lay you down with the gauge ,
in order to put you in a deathly place ,
pour out on your grave some hennessy ,
thats for the great lengths that life took my enemy ,
I'll watch you burn in hell to the degree's ,
So check your energy before it bottoms out ,
I'm atrocious ,
pullin guns inside of ya house ,
I'mma skilled artist ,
you better watch what comes outta ya mouth ,
I could rise like a sky scraper ,
and fall from the top ropes ,
destroyin all of your hopes ,
now I'm back flyin in my car ,
with my snub on smoke ,
I aim with a weapon ,
nothin will delay me ,
I'm ready ,
Locked and loaded with that L.A D , (D as in Defense)
If you lookin good with that pellay crease ,(pellay as in pelle pelle)
I'll take your goods quick when my AK speaks

Ay, yo.. a dorm shooter, war looter, stormtrooper, Bourne’s tutor...
I got more secret styles than Soar’s oeuvre.
...And mine ain’t all the same.
My train of thought’s you ain’t thought to train.
I’ll hijack your train of thought, make ya walk in shame.
Nah fuck that, I’ll hijack the mortal plane.
We ain’t in the same bracket. (here’s where Soar’d explain).
Secret styles? Bitch, you switch through corny, lame... boring, tame... forced, ashamed...
Got me feeling more disdain than if my Jordans stained
With your blood and guts when you’re torched and maimed.
My pen’s mightier than what Soar’d bring, and it all pertains...
Coz, I ain’t wanna hear your thoughts, just explore your brains.

Secret Killer Skew Style at 100

You wanna jack the mortal planes? ,
I'll jack your mind with ease ,
Give you Shao Khans defeated glow on Mortal Kombat 3 , (he glows when you defeat him)
You shook when Soar Kaid arrives ,
cuz I light like a match and explode ,
now you remain in hives ,
I write with a blood ink pen ,
I'll kill ya family off to make sure you have a dud eve-nin ,
Your rap battles are everything short of graphic ,
They should disconnect you from the net and get you out the traffic ,
You think you a MC? ,
Well my talents infinitely increase ,
your a bare minimum while my Ex 2 power is a beast , (Ex 2, X 2)
I just use that when I wanna sow my royal oats ,
on the beat ,
I loom like a large buildin shadow ,
and blast you with heat

Secret Symphony of Death Style... at 100

Carryin a gun carries charges of ten to life ,
But I don't care ,
I'll just be stuck in the prison after what I do to ya wife ,
I'll stretch out my tims just to put dirt on ya rims ,
Go to your job ,
and tell the manager that your doin the customers in ,
I love beef ,
This smoke will be a reminder to you and ya friends , (you don't want no smoke...)
that I aint no video game , (I aint so-arcade)
and you won't make it to the end ,
Man who you supposed to be ,
A fighter? ,
A trooper? ,
If you hidin from Kaid ,
I'll send that shot to your recruiter

Uh, yo, I mutate new traits and eschew fate.
That ain’t a “symphony of death”, just a ‘fugue’ state.
A few... wait...

Psst, Soar... that’s not a different style, that’s a different colour.
But it’s “at 100”? wow, for real? that’s the biggest number!
Ahh all along it was just the font which made his lyrics suffer.
Now it’s in green, jeez, that shit is gutter, what an utterly descriptive fucker.
Before... we all saw Soar sore as a kid that stutters.
We’ve seen him grow from writing total shit, to writing total shit in vivid colours.
It’s been an emotional journey.

deleted. read next post. my fault.

Secret Symphony of Death Style at 110...

Your lack of skill is showin ,
I'll give you about a 50 ,
Your raps about my raps is failin to get me ,
You could be president and not give a good speech ,
You'd ruin the world like those rudimentary elites ,
You act like your rhymes are hard enough to make them peak ,
but how you spit on the street ,
aint how you put it on a loose leaf ,
Best believe my spittin instincts is on beast ,
While your writin arm works the least ,
which gets you lost in defeat ,
You better off at 20 ,
I change from chemical missles to atomic scuds ,
when I cross modes ,
It’ll radiate your brains with heat where ever the bomb goes ,
Watch me roll ,
I'll dig your grave outta place ,
cuz ya body parts in each state ,
I'mma ace ,
"Write" with Soar Kaid and get "erased"

You erase what they write? You got it twisted gangsta,
You rub one out with your right, you’re a prolific wanker,
And you just said you’re ace, which I would probably second,
Cards on the table, your mental age is either 1 or 11,
I said, fuck your sandals and your tight look jeans,
Your neighbours post you notes - “keep your blinds shut please”,
Throw rocks at your windows, like love scenes,
They all get shattered over time call it childhood dreams,
The way you write just seems kinda lost n lazy,
What’s next, yellow text? Orange maybe?
Really thinks we’re checkin in like “kaid been on it lately,
I know he didn’t really say much, but that font was crazy!”

At 110

You know I stay givin out L's ,
I’ll have bags eyes widened cuz I'm throwin Kamehameha's in hell ,
I'll syphon the life out of your head ,
and you'll be walkin on the street with the dead ,
I'll take all of your money when I lift up the sides of your bed ,
and run down the alley to get away from the feds ,
I run with knives to cut your throat ,
while your soul floats ,
Ya wife will cry over ya ghost ,
I got skills ,
so bag you can't play around near the throne ,
Call my guards to kill you with my phone when its ohn ,(say ohn for the word "on")
I’ll pop bag in his dread locks with my chrome ,
And watch his body perspirate liquid like the O-Zone ,
I’ll blow Bag away with a bomb that’ll crucially damage the earth ,
I sat with an angel ,
And bargained in order to hand you a curse ,
I use my raps to tally your death in a verse ,
Cuz bag can’t orchestrate a spit ,
in order to come in first ,
I’m like Michael Jackson Billie Jean in 83 ,
throwin my brim ,
and the crowd begins to clap at the end ,
Your in thriller ,
Bags a zombie in the grave tryin to swim ,
I'll pull out the guage then aim the rim at you and ya friends ,
and you won't go to heaven ,
it matters who sits in ,
You can't measure up ,
Cuz I move like bank tellers with the loot I gets , (yes "gets")
I'm Mr. Grim ,
I aint no Mr. E , (mystery)
if you go against me ,
Its suicide ,
You will die in peace ,
for eyes to see ,
Its easy to peep that I’m heaven ,
cuz I shine brighter like a light increase

You bargained to give me a curse - with who? Satan? A demon?
Fam, if you’re givin L’s it’s cuz you’ve run outta places to keep em,
I couldn’t give a fuck it’s the don nonchalant,
This is a font of knowledge vs just knowledge of font,
You think your shit’s Avant Garde? It’s more the comical one,
Get your text bodied in any text body you want,
I’m bout to-home-a missile, fixed-its position I did that,
That shit go aerial, then hit your system with a critical impact,
Probably sat getting a boner over all those typefaces,
Thinkin about using emoji’s so you can literally type faces