Neverending Rap Battle

Now im comin back waka your raps are wack
motha fucka fack bitch you need a tic tac or
mouth wash cause your breath smells like some
dudes sack now it's time for you to pack ill take
all yall fake fuckin chumps

yeah my lyrics are a crime cause they take people back in time and like i said bitch learn how to rhyme

Money your rhymes are crap
So em gonna pull ur strap
Call ur self a money maker?
Or
A **** taker
That's much faker

I’m on a head trip, my entire brain has fallen over
My lines are crazy like a drunkard but I’m always sober
Takin’ this chip off my shoulder
Keepin’ it real like I’m supposed to
Always on the road, constantly gettin’ it on like most do
The way I deliver these letters in rhymes is like I’m on the postal
Spreadin’ it wide like a disease, it’s goin’ bio-coastal
Illustraight’s feelin’ focused like binoculars and focals
Married to the game like I just renewed my vows with a Sega console
I’m out to attain my goals, just like footballers and rugby players
With the extra objective to remove the doubt from all the haters
I spit with a master’s precision
Leavin’ those muggers with scabs and stitches
Hit ‘em with massive sticks and leave ‘em with gashes and slits that match their lips
Always hittin’ the marks like I just battered the grammar senseless
A savage gorilla with hands that’ll hit you with rapid good slaps that’ll damage your tissue
Flexible soon as my tongue twists, spittin’ spotless with mushed lips
Makin’ an effort and armed with the courage, while all of you suckers are gutless
Always been a dope child, constantly gettin’ the low-down
My fo’-pound will turn your entire block into a ghost town
My flow sound is so foul just like a goat’s bowel
Jazzy like Motown and like a bitch the way that it goes down
Look, if you don’t know who I am, well, you know now
Illustraight just killed these suckers off with a whole round

hey this is a rap battle we don't need no tip tap lyrics it's
like your delierous cause you get so serious it's so stupid
you look like cupid but with no fuckin love all you get is hate

MoneyMan you think that you are so ******* fly -
2 posts on the trot? Now I'm not gonna lie:
It seems a bit excessive, you like the sound of your own voice.
************ shut your stutter before I come and shut your noise.
You call yourself Money and we all know how you make it:
Putting peen inside your mouth, ass, ear, so many ways that you can take it.
We've seen you on the corner sucking on some dong with glee.
But why call yourself Money, man? You do most of them for free.
So, Money, please take my advice and start to make some savings,
It won't be hard to raise it with your wild penis cravings.
Get to it, you can do it and when you got some in your pocket
Pay us for rapping lessons and we'll teach you how to rock it.

Ohh illustraight u r dam illiterate
Em sleepin in a train
And you're blowin up my veins
I write raps no matter how short
It's better than your binoculars and focals focused on a road

Em liking iamsam cause he is hating money man
Breakin up the rules em pumpin all the pools
Cause money man's a fool
And they like me cause em cool

why r u guys so quite
u make me feel an astroid

make some noises in the org
or em gonna cut u by the fork

em pumpin as hard as i can
and you're not even bumpin the best u can!

Keep quite is all u do
So chillex now wat do to
I hate silence
But I love violence
Iamsam is also quet
Wats the matter want to get killed by the astroid?
Wocka flocka's burnin
But y r u guys turnin?
Em dam dizzy
But em likin it fizzy
Dancin in the pub
Now em stressed so go to the market and get me herbs
Like popeye eat spinach
Then u'll be strong to play tennis

Shut uppppppp!.......did some say this 2 u?
Em picked up by the gratitude
What r u rappers?
But ur dam quet and em like a cracker
Rapper cracker raper cracker raper cracker can some1 get me a tracker
Cause em gettin much blacker
Which is so much better

"Wocka flocka"? Where the **** did you steal that name from?
Here's a reminder: you're ******* with Illustraight, son!
Swing on the judge, you get hung, drawn and quartered
And YES - I underlined the words to underscore the warning
Rappers like you spit the same stuff - you're a lame schmuck
I'm the type to put words into your head until your brain's fucked
It's well beyond your depth to front with a tyrant
The only reason you feel short is because you fucked with a giant

Bruv, your runnin' round like a treadmill,
Gettin' nowhere coz your on bed pills,
Blowin' boys 'til your head spills,
I got a headache coz your lexis is ill,
Clean up your act, i'm a sexist still,
Your wearin' your vest, you look vexed, chill.

I make more bread than a windmill,
Warburtons or Kingsmill,
I pepper wiv you wiv mre holes than a King drill,
Go back to the bedroom and get a refill.

em standing in a front of jerk
also called a schmuck
em pointing illustrate
whom i hit with bat
illustrate is dawm illetrate
and now em gonna penetrate right straight!
u got much luck got no hit with my foot
cause u'r half crook

em not ehh what u call that? hung
em dam drunk
so now em gonna be funk
as per 4 u
em rude
and 4 me emma gr8 strook
now lets get the battle on you crook

ahh stop ur raps u blowin ma ear drums
got more pain because of the bubble gum
u're not a rapper you're black pepper
light me up i'll get into yah like a craker!

i'll cut u in pieces'
u'r rightin theisus?
gotta chain made for jesus?
i live in where peace is
shut ur mouth it stinks like cheese is!

this is nt calld rapping
this is calld crraping
which makes us ripping
coz ur freakin

Your sippin' a energy drink like it's a can of rum,
Beggin' for packs of gum wiv your baggabum,
I say wat's wiv your swagga son,
You pull out a dagger or grab a gun, bag a tonne,
Dress up to stab a bum, you strap up like a slapper son,
Don't sell yourself short, you aint the dapper one,
Your just backpackin' from the back of da slum.

So I’m a crook?
One rhyme of deceit is all it took
to mind-numb you, and you fell for it
Hook, line and sinker
Now listen as my rhymes belittle you
You get bewitched, bedazzled and bewildered with my divine instruments
Who do you think you’re frontin’ with, cus’?
You couldn’t hit a bat if it sucked on your blood
Your luck has run low, because you rucked with a pro
Here – you’re gonna need a tissue to cover your nose
I just Illustraighted your death
On the garrotte stand with a rope round the nape of your neck