Freestyle Rap Battle vs Morals

RD. 1: me
lace your boots up, I'm souped up, I got your crew shook
Been a while since I kicked a rhyme, I've Been a little cooped up
But now I'm cutting loose, and cutting goofs who chose to use
disrespectful views- morals- you finna get bruised
Cos I'm slick, a real hit, so sick I gotta spit in a Hazmat suit
Now to brass tacks, fool: you should learn the name of the dude
who about to school you, subdue you, overrule and outdo you,
See, 
I rose from the dead as they all said
"Oh my god, It just can't be!" So let's go ,G, prove it to me 
That you're even worth the price of my two-cent ink
I'm finding it hard to breathe from all the bullshit you speak
does your ass get jealous of how much your mouth reeks?,
wash it out, soap on tongue, son- spit it down the kitchen sink
you're the fucking dental floss I use between my teeth
accept defeat, or the crime scene gonna be on law and order next week
And Ice-T's gonna see that your rhymes is weak, 
and say "Goddamn, another lame ass MC"
Cos it don't matter how sly you seem, you can't fuck with those in the major league
Not the OG's, and sure as shit not me, no matter who you claim to be
you better find god, and make peace,
Cos if you ain't dead now,
In round 2 you gonna be.

RD 1: Morals 
My boots have been laced like the shit you smoked that made you think you could spit flames./
I beat your breaks off for getting in this lane./
It's best to leave now with your tail between your legs, and in shame./

Shawn Naquin./
I'll have Shawn ache when he gets something that nobody else wants to partake in./
You publish lines with rhymes that have the wrong placement./
I bomb assailants who want to make some complications until they crawl legless./
You're getting hung like wall paintings./
Stop thinking your rhymes will cause anguish./
They just fall face first on the pavement, and that's how false aim is./

What a soft way to go for ending a verse./
You say if you don't kill me, then you will soon, but why can't I just be dead in the first?/

What a foolish act./
It's a proven fact, I have bones to pick at,/
But shitting on stupid rappers makes me feel like goose the cat./
I love making them blue, and black./
I leave your hands looking like I cut them off, and glued them back./
You walked in my booby trap./
The roof collapsed on your music. Keep producing wack./
Your bio says you're from Louisiana. I'll just blow your whole fucking state off of Google maps./

I can tell your rhyming supply is fully depleted./
Everything you're writing down should be deleted./
'Cause you're spitting jibber jabber./
Simple patterns with no hidden matter. No input data./
You couldn't win a battle against any rapper that's in this gather./

You weren't ready for this./
You didn't know that I have plenty to dish,/
It's all headed your way, and there's no defending my hits./
I'll juggle two battles, and have no trouble with getting some wins./
You write your verse, and struggle with pressing submit/
because you know what you wrote Isn't worth the stress on your wrist./

When you, and I mix, I'm incredible, and you're uncredible./
You make us skeptical./
You're such a lightweight that I bet you'd pass out after one edible./

Now, you're in my gun reticle having a heart attack./
Cardiac arrest, but still wondering where the party's at./
Someone I've hired to whack broke in and fired his strap in your apartment./
Then, stashed your body bag at a laundromat in the lost artifacts compartment./

RD 2: me
I'm glad you know how to tie your shoes, I was a little concerned
allow me to throw some ice on your third degree burns I gave you in the last verse
bullets are just butterflies compared to the impact of gats stacked with my words

I'm detrimental, Destructive and temperamental
the way your bars "flowed,"
I wouldn't doubt that they were rapped to a vanilla ice instrumental

It's a testament to your low intellect 
If you think your raps are raw, real, or intelligent
they ain't celibate, cos they be fucked up since the jump
these schemes are ride or dies, 
yours are just cum dumps
you were right about one thing,
I am hung like wall paintings
thanks for the compliment, but
is that we're supposed to be saying? 
cos I expected a filleting, a possible slaying
but the truth is- 
you ain't no rapper, you just role playing
I'm gonna knock your ass out 
Like I was training Al Haymon,
listen, Wonderbread, I told you that I ain't playin

I'll still kick an ill street rap
with a signature street format
write a manifesto before you even make the doormat
Maybe that's why it took you two days to write back, 
you thought, "maybe he
will lose that killer creativity"
well, guess what, bitch?
that's you, that's not me
I aint even worried bout what you gon bring on day three

You know, I felt kinda bad when I called your shit wack,
Cos normally, I don't get down like that
But then I read your verse, and changed my mind
When I saw that "goose the cat" crap,
Bitch, don't make me laugh
your shit never slapped, 
aww.. don't cry, don't be sad,
though this may be the worst loss you ever had
There's probly still a place for you in mumble rap...

RD 2: Morals
I read this, and laughed./
Ask yourself if you can you do any better than that./
Your foundation was never intact./
I've got you cornered. Time to commit a terrorist act, and detonate bag./
No virgins for you. I can't help you with that./
The odds against you are heavily stacked./
Just like the coffins I buried out back./

You can't keep up with what I can do on the mic, and there's no doubt I have slaughtered./
Every one of your off flows coming my way has been blown out of the water./

You get motion sickness./
I'm smoking bitches when I'm rolling Swishers, and toking big ones./
You're a cat that only snaps when he folds with stiffness./
I'm a whole coalition. A battle with me isn't a solo mission./
I load munitions so quick when I spit, it broke a Guinness./
I expose positions, and the mortars blow up victims at their own volition./
Exploding Naquin helps me hold up the quota limit./

I'm something you shouldn't step to, but step away from./
You're only detrimental to your own reputation./
By the way, I predicted the flip when I mentioned paintings./
I knew your queer ass would make a dick joke when I made it./

All this bitch can say is he'll knock me out./
I'd like to see him try because I doubt he can fight at all. Otherwise, I would've lost first round./
That's right, bitch. You're below me. I go right over you. I don't walk around./
I can outdo anything you've ever jotted down./

You have one more chance to prove your strength./
You'll lose. Theres too much weight to sustain./
I only shoot it straight./
Right through your brains, and blew your face off./
I chew remains until my tooth's in pain./

This shit is more than just a fight song./
After this battle, you'll go to bed with your lights on./

RD 3: me
Now I knew you were weak when all of this started, 
But damn, you throw metaphors like you were in kindergarten
I ‘m an artist, and you’re just a mentally retarded bargain
Morals? Who the fuck is that? While he’s bleeding out,  I ‘m already charting
I  never sleep, so I don’t mind if the light stays on-
Cos  I  stay up writing other MC’s wrongs, lighting bongs, and writing hit songs, 
While you rubbin your balls with your head up your ass like the way bitches wear thongs

As far as homos like me go, it’s only natural for a neanderthal 
Like you to make a sexuality joke as he strokes his own bone
To a video of two dudes getting blown on his gen 3 iphone
It’s 2019, I ‘m not sure if you know, but- It’s okay to be gay,
you might as well come out, bro.  But no,  I ‘m not trying to bone. 
Stop hitting me up in the PM and for the love of god, stop sending me DM’s.
I ‘m swallowing your reputation, not your load; stupid bloke- I would never 
cos it ain’t even big enough to make me choke. Thanks for the offer, though,  
Don’t get discouraged, you can still go Jerk off under the covers in your room alone 
Just make sure your mom can’t hear, and remember: wash your hands 
after every stroke- hygiene’s important, you know?

Oh yes,  I  went there. You make like a lawn chair and fold. You look a little pale, 
here’s some pepto, got beef? Then let’s go, salty cracker, get your ass back to nabisco. I‘m gonna spice it up,add tobasco. Oh ,I see louisiana still on google maps, hoe- Where’s my eradication?  I ‘d still be waitin on your verse on the day of my graduation. I  need that instant validation,  test my patience,  I  bring death to your location. Don’t give me that shit about taking your time to write bars,I bring it twice as hard when we spar and never fall, cos I‘m a claim retorter, rampage resorter, sipping hand grenades 
in the quarter, so many rhymes TLC peeped me for an episode of hoarders

Cos This a poker game, and  I  can peek all your tells The more you say “bitch” in a line the more scared you are to fail. That weakness inside  is where your comparison pales to mine, and fails in size and stature,flows like niagra, forty lines,but I could go all night like I was on Viagra,this bastard’s gon birth a fast rap rapture

So- you’ve found yourself a nice little place to go, the cyph gets hype whenever you’re home But secretly, you and  I  both know- everybody here sees your broke snotty flows,
Your raps move fast but your mind slinks slow, You’re style’s getting old, 
the next thing you write will be your suicide note. You shade those lesser than you,
But you’re quick to brown nose those better than you.Chalk it up to fear, tell me; 
who’s the real queer here?Just to be clear,  I ‘ll  rephrase-I'll say it till I'm old-aged,The age old catchphrase About the skinned cats and the many ways- I ‘ll skin this cat with a makeshift shiv any day, Bury you in the pet semetary; on my Stephen King game, 
Run you over in my car, Chrissy- please-let this cat push me, an it'll be the death of he-
Guess that’s why you’re profile is a false claim about homicide and a pic of a pussy.

RD 3: morals
Apparently you wrote a hit song that nobody's ever heard of./
The only one I listened to was self promoted./
Pretty sure Rhyot didn't even say, "Word up" because the verse sucked./
Topping what charts? You aren't getting any work done./
There's not a nerve struck. Take this L on your first run./
I'm not sure what alerts us more./
That gay shit or the way you call my flow broken when you can't follow a beat./
Regardless, if you’re biting from me you'll get a burnt tongue./

If your dad knew you were a fag he would disown you./
With the shit you just said, you better be glad he doesn't go through your phone too./

I'm practically sick of this verse./
You thought you could take it that low, and slip into first?/
That's not how this works./
That shit was beyond disgusting, and it doesn't take much to outdo those words./

Though, nice job on the lawn chair bar. I've used that before./
Except I took it a step further with more,/
but that's ok. You have plenty of learning in store./
Just remember you got served in your court./

I'm doing more than striking chords./
I'm pulling the plug on your life support./
Murdering Opponents with a shining sword./
You tried, but kind of denied the score./
You're a failure in it's highest form./

Nobody's gon' miss him./
I'm cutting off power to his audio system./
I saw your chat cypher that you posted the other night, and it backfired./
I attack harder. No wack lying to win like you do because you lack fighter tactics,/
and all the essentials to body a victim./
You’re falling so quickly./

You stupid bitch. I’m taking you out, and you aren’t doing shit./
Come down to Detroit. You can get hit with my Joe Lewis fist./
I’m through with this./
You’ve been screwed, but not the way that you’d permit./
Lunatic is your pseudonym./
The only way you would get to a different universe is by being nailed to a crucifix./
The only way you get bloody is when you end up in your pool of it./

Keep putting comments on my posts./
The more you call me wack in a battle, the more obvious it is that you don’t want to be provoked./
The more you act harder than you are, the sooner you’ll be made out to be a joke./
No matter the uncredited opinions you have of me, I’m bound to be a Goat./