Elements > Tha Studio

Crew Tourny: Melanin vs. The Realists (Continued)

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infinite59:
3-0 is a knockout.  Or first crew to 4 votes.  10-15 bars.

You may copy and post your verses from the last tournament.  Since this battle was never rated and scored.  Otherwise, no old material.  Verses are due before the 27th.  If late, your crews worst verse will be doubled.

infinite59:
(Continued from Previous Tournament)

As it Was Revealed by Infinite[/i]

Since you fake mc's, are all sleepin on me/
haven't turned in your verses, like where's Roccy?/
Nowhere to be seen, must be sucking the dick of a Jewish mc/
Who could that be, hmmmm....let me see, Ohhh Now I Know/

Ya'll fuckin hoes is all sleepin, I'm passing out blankets and clothes/
To these faggot rookie wannabe Melanin Hoes/
Fuck the Realists, and like the US's first colonists did to Indians/
My blankets are infested with invective rhetoric and small pox infections/  
I cut wholes in little sections so I can evaporate your style's like convection/
Get stretched out on Section 8, your getting a case of manhandling/
By me, I'm the Infinite 5 to the 9, but I've replaced my last name with the X/
If I was a white supremist ya'll would be mad, but then why ya'll love Malcolm?/
Naw fuck that, I just confused ya'll, because the both of them have truths/
The only wrongs are done when information is kept from some/
So we must pray for the education of all, and avoid the pitfalls/
I draw from this knowledge to defeat this half-crescent mc's/
Ya'll is gonna be forever peasents until you find the immunities/

R.I.P.[/i]

ePiK_INgenius:
openin verse!
yo we tha Realists and we here to assassinate, we gunna attack like a virus, we gonna contaminate,//
aite, let me get to da point, we gonna smoke your crew like a joint,//
chekk out our rhyme projectile, we gunn fukk u up like a fixed court trial,//
we switchen gun~to~gun, bullet~to~bullet, we got the trigga rah here, and aint afraid to pull~it,//
damn right melanin is deficient, your rhymes are wack a and inefficient,//
deficient of talent thats what you are, we juss got started, but we beat u so far,//
this is yur crews end, the Realists ascend ...  AGAIN//
wining this is da right thing to do, in da rap rap business u guy have no clue//
i kno u guys aint shit, juss anothers pest, u aint no match cuz out crew is da best//
U suck 24/7 like a baby and a bottle, our rhymes soar high, and we holding the throttle//
Slappin ur crew aroung like it was nothing, we gonna win dis shit we aint bluffin//
u guys throw rhymes like girls throw balls, spreading ur legs
and sitting wen nature calls,//
yall just another bunch of pussies tryin to be mc's, now our crew makin u shake like u got epilepsies,//
our rhymes revolve like they were in a revolver, now u gotta run to ur moms and cry on her shoulder,//
pieces of shit goin up agenst the realists, yall tried to hit but u missed!// [/b]

ROCCY:
I hate it when it comes to an end, specially when there is no time to spend/
And haters come along to hate on me, But none of them got any idea who I be/
Infinite the brother, is a wanna be homie, but when I get wild no way u can control me/
Blade gots the champion Belt, after this spit Melanin Deficient Will Melt/
My shit is harder then a bag full of rocks, Your shit smells worst then a bag full of socks/
Pillow Is leaving the crew cause hes a trader, but I will come back more powerful and greater/
My rhymes hold more shit then a Floppy Disk, ya'l taking a big Risk battling the Realists/
but of course were gonna get a couple of people to hate~on~this/
My rhymes are the king, get close enough and they will sting/
My rhymes hurt more then Racism, with rhymes so tite ya'l be screaming get~me~sum/



                         
RIP

infinite59:
Blade wanted me to post this verse for him incase he didn't make it on in time.

Blade's verse:



shattering your skull, wid jaw fragments all over the street...
hold on to ure seat as I chop off your legs so you can "admit-da-feet"...
my rhymes r like tha deseart, leave you burned if you try to ride...
stick ure dignity down ure throat, so u can swallow ure pride...
im known worldwide with my lines, chances of you winning are as narrow as bin laden holdin up USA'z flags...
After my rap session, and opression of ure lyriics, mics and emcees get wrapped up in  body bagz...
I dont give a fuck like a bishop...
spittin till ya casket drops...
flingin verbal uppercuts givin ya'll concussions...
leave ure mental state collaspin like the economy of the russians...
lol@roccy thinks he can drop hard bars just cuz he jump with them...
leave u cold and motionless on the bathroom floor like i cut ure brain stem...
and pillow, nah ppl dont sleep on ure rhymes cuz of ure nickname ...
creep-up on ure-lines and stab your nack and watch u drown in my flame...
Your "shit" aint "tight" so jus call em lose-motions...
as i end this rhyme, doctors diagnose tha fakest with abused-notions....

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