Your rhymes left my simply blank
All that shit and not a punch came
Ur worse than that guy in ur music video
Talking for 2 minutes bout how the city goes
Quit blabbing your mouth, fuck attention
You tried to stand out, but your never mentioned
Your rhymes left my simply blank
All that shit and not a punch came
Ur worse than that guy in ur music video
Talking for 2 minutes bout how the city goes
Quit blabbing your mouth, fuck attention
You tried to stand out, but your never mentioned
Scytsophrenia
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I'ma put the flame~to~his~ass cock back blazen~n~blast/
Rearrange ya face~in~a~flash blow ya brains from ya waves~when~it~clash/
I'ma bring pain~with~the~wrath dig a grave~for~ya~trash/
He the type to floss his big range~on~the~ave/
Me running~up the gun~a~bust slaying~him~fast/
Leave him layed~in~some~grass/
The strip his wheels and make a casket out the wood grain~in~the~dash/
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Talking bout raping my ass? kid quit with the trash
Gun busting bullshit on the Internet is simply wack
I noticed that through all the shit that you dropped
There wasn't a single punch throughout that whole flop
Your immature, almost as much so as your sig
Sorry kid, but you have no meaning like your name Synik
Scytsophrenia
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this aint elevation, this guys repeats himself like a st-st-stutter
im like a piece of PC hardware coz, I'm the audio inputter
so dont mutter and try to make any decibells of noise or sound
coz ur looking kinda like a windmill, yeah u stuck 2 the ground
but ur heads just spinnin and ur gettin nowhere in advance
ur pants, n ive got ur mams down like im with Holly Valance
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"WELCOME TO THE CITY MANCHESTER, GUNCHESTER
WHERE MAN BE YAMMIN EACHOTER UP LIKE HANNIBAL LECTURE"
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I sabotage his motives like vivica, & leave this vixen-in-pain/
Buried alive with seizures like customs, twitchin-in-graves/
You in no position-to-say nothing, you're boring as a bland-jester/
Weightliftin with his molesters, is why he reps in Man-chester/
Who cares if you feed-I.D, Outside my clubs, ya standin-real-silly/
Why call him V.I.P?, He's the silicone in pam anderson's titties/
Aint aint the silicone inside the chest of pam
But im the 1 with my dick inside your mam
fuck that she lookin like an old fishermans wife
she smell like 1 when she opens her legs at night
i dont chat shite i talk right when im on the txt son
open ur eyes and see the light, i mean when I say son!!!!!!!!!!!!!1
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"WELCOME TO THE CITY MANCHESTER, GUNCHESTER
WHERE MAN BE YAMMIN EACHOTER UP LIKE HANNIBAL LECTURE"
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Yo those lyrics were balls, and your clearly a dick
Cenatore is a nerd and you still aint nearly as sick
Babblin whack lines like how your "on the text"
I'm on your moms bed, she gives monster head
And your thinkin your nice, bitch I'm a nomad
You need to remove words like shite from your vocab
Thats so sad, just like all of the rap in the UK
Got V.I.P status at chip and dales cuz yous gay
BEOTCH!
die die die
go run an hide
ill give you 10 seckonds so i dont see you get high an cry
your pitifull when i speak its literal
i act the fool an strap you in a whealchair, take you to a cliff, ask you if you like the view and toss you down there.
And all that gibberish
that you were spittin'
you need to kill it
Cas your style is like dying in my sleep
, I don't feel it
Hey yo when I said that I was a nomad
It wasn't an invitation to pick up the flow, M-A-D
Verbal weaponry will shred him yo I'm sick in the head
Those lyrics look like they were written by my dick with a pen
Like I'm gonna let a little fuckin honkey bitch
Put me in a wheelchair and toss me off a cliff
You must be stupid.
J-StYLeZ...
my bad, forgot i was posting on wallas comp
<center><img src = "http://img1.imagetitan.com/img1/1/16/jwallaimg.jpg"height = "200" width = "200"></center>
Ain't been here for a while,
But i see only the bitches is left...
Got 'Wallas' over here sufferin' from identity theft...
You may Diss a Dude,.. but todays not that day...
It's a whole new meaning when i say...Ya ryhmes Blew me away...
In other words kid,
Your fresh outta luck...
My styles Bentley Coupe,.. yours is Hydrolics on a truck..
Ya weak ass ryhmes ain't holdin'...
Ya styles goin' flat..
Seven lines to ya name yo?...
I've seen kids swing on more Bars than that...
"9 to 5 is how you survive//
Im not tryna survive...
I'm tryna live it to the limit and love it alive//"
I got this nigga shook he be bumpin regaeton askin for sum GASOLINA
.Ill diss the bitch above me and you but i rather fuck up this THUMP-ALINA
You aint dope son ..You just used to that copy and paste thing
I say Fagets and liquor from last night then your gay ass starts remembering
U queer..Hopin to get sum posts right here in the Cypher
But u wont be recognized for skill here, nor there , or the life after
Im sick wit the Flow...Ill rip ya permanantly so you cant sew it
Thump has high hopes but its just that "HERBie thinks he is fully LOADED"
I dunn merked the whole cypher All night and all day ..
SO ill just sit back ...waitin for what the next faget has to Say...
You the shittiest artist yet to ever be known
Outta all the herbs, ur the greatest ever grown
Your spelling of your name explains your talent
Can't get shit right, leaving you without fashion
More like a fashist, we here ask for a set skill
But you can't match it....
....your nothing and thats why u can't be feeled
Scytsophrenia
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GASOLINA?... Nah, my styles fueled with Flow...
This Flow makes the waves, ask them niggas surfin', they know...
Your Depths not too vast,
Don't mean to put ya on blast...
But most of the lines, in ya last verse were trash...
My Hits legit, i'm always bringin' it thick...
When i toss ya lines.. ya monkey ass is Flingin' back shit...
In ya land, you might be sick with it...
But, what i got here is the cure...
I'll have ya boys not knowin' if your livin'... like you was tupac shakur..
FUCK IT! Call me an Herb, dog i got the spice...
Come at me, i'll Diss you Twice,
'Cause your 'TECHNIQUE' aint that nice...
"9 to 5 is how you survive//
Im not tryna survive...
I'm tryna live it to the limit and love it alive//"
Fueled by flow? how so when your still writing?
Flow only counts in audio...
...you are just searching bad shit and findings
You said you'd diss him twice, but u didn't do shit
You had no punches and i'm not into excuses
Your simply shit, nothing from u comes explicit
Talent from you kid............ doesn't even exist
Scytsophrenia
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Fuck this kid,
I'm gainin' the weight..
I pack more force behind punches...
Like my moma took her Jelly and packed it in all of my lunches..
He like, "Flow in ya text, Man that shit is absurd"...
I can tell you ain't bullshittin', 'cause there none in yours...
Flow is where the connection is when words are hurrred...
Even if ya only readin' it,.
Even if the grammurrre is Slurrred..
It's fundamental... You need to put it in ya brain...
Fake-Ass gangsta, pedalin' false info without a chain...
Had to take ya ass to class... got me feelin' like the parent..
Thought 'Cornea' could see the truth...
...But fact must be transparent..
"9 to 5 is how you survive//
Im not tryna survive...
I'm tryna live it to the limit and love it alive//"
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