Debate Rounds (4)
Why you accepted
Experience with rapping and rhyming
Then i will start
i accepted bc i wanna show dem bytches and hoes wat i got
my experience is delirious
Get ready to see blood next time you piss.
My rhymes will kill you and send you down an abyss
of rapping same where you won't be dismissed.
You've made a mistake man. You played the wrong card.
Get out while you can, cause you gonna be scarred.
But chill I play it cool. My mouth's clean like my yard.
I ain't using naughty words cause it's weak, retard.
I ain't saying you got nothing. I ain't saying your squat.
I'm just coming on hard cause I don't know what you got.
But I know I'll survive, and you most likely cannot.
So show me your worst. Take your best shot...
You got more problems that Europe's got Jews
You're problems don't go bad, they stay bad like bad booze.
Y'all think you know me but you don't so who's
To judge me, who's to blame
For the fans and the haters not thinking the same.
First you're biggest problem, is when you drop a few lines
I doesn't sound like more than nursery rhymes.
And I don't mean to offend your virgin ears
But I myself have plenty of years
On this Earth, and I learned that words have girth
So first, don't call me a retard.
That word is reserved for the mentally scarred.
Other words have the same effect,
and you could have at least stayed politically correct.
Second, I'm gonna warn you now
Sometimes the English language gets a little bit foul.
But hey, I'll use it sparingly
So the point that I'm making stands out glaringly.
You see, rap is an art
And I'm gonna put you down from the very start.
Now that I used this round to set some parameters,
Let's circle up, and cross the diameter.
Hey, I'm ready to throw a few licks
So take some laxatives, cause you'll be sh*tting bricks.
You're success rate will go down from here,
You better play it by ear,
I got nothin' to fear.
You see, you really don't pose a threat to me
As I said you got a problem, so what does that mean?
Well, you know, basically
There are 98 more of you for Jay-Z.
And he can rap about every day and night,
But he ain't never gonna get it right.
"If you're having girl problems I feel bad for you son,
I got 99 problems but a b*tch ain't one".
I'm Jay-Z's b*tch, but in no Sandusky way,
I'm saying I'm top dog of this rapping relay.
I chill with Jay-Z.
I chill with Weezy.
I chill with the legislators of the rap law.
I chill with Drizzy.
I chill with Nicki.
Hell, you can call it a Minaj-a-trois.
Himilkyes, go get 'em, Tiger
But you better not get you're Wood up in my girl.
See, unlike you, I respect the women and shawties
Maybe you'd find more luck at the Lemon Parties.
Or maybe it's time you board the Cain Train
Watch Herman's ratings disappear—David Blaine.
Now if you don't like my slanderous sedition,
Maybe it's time we draft a petition
To debate.org, we'll make it easy for you
"Put a FORFEIT DEBATE button up in bright blue".
You would click it, and then you would avoid
The shame and embarrassment, because I'm Lloyd
Bentsen, and you're Dan Quayle
Don't call yourself JFK when you're on the campaign trail.
I could keep going, I still got more
But I think I've done what you've asked me for.
My rap isn't just more witty that yours,
But it's also the length of yours—times four.
And hey, this is only round two
I got plenty more rhymes in the future for you.
So tell me, do you really want more of it?
Or are you just gonna decide to forfeit?
Let me know now, I don't want to wait,
for you to lose every argument in this debate.
If not, it's time for you to bring it.
Maybe this time you'll reach the CHARACTER LIMIT.
You're verse was short.
Your rhymes were a tort.
For sucking so bad I oughta take you to court.
But hey, I gotta nasty cohort
We're gonna read your next post,
and chuckle and snort.
Like Bocephus, I got rowdy friends
And when I kill in this debate,
we'll divide the dividends.
I gotta go now, I got homework to do.
I'll see you when I'm done with my Algebra II.
Aight less go...
You talk too much. That's a feminine quality.
Your mind is a system of massive-inequality.
I ain't a tool. I won't go on forever.
I know rap's more than just putting rhymes together.
You call it an art, that's a pretty good start.
But it's more than rhyming. It's about the heart.
Take that any way you want; only the wise see through.
I bet there's not an inch on you that's not under a tattoo.
The skill isn't length, not, the rhyming, or duration.
It's the very special words that make the rap's foundation.
You don't know any more than rhymes, filth, and trash.
You probably rob the innocent to get whatever cash.
It's a shame you accepted. Your only gonna be smashed.
You'll be flattened and squished. You'll be kicked and trashed.
So make your next move buddy. You and your smell of mutton.
I don't mean post again- just hit the forfeit button...
Skin so white like mozzarella
I got a large fan base—girls, and lots of fellas
Two words to describe me are hot and stellar.
My rhymes are hectic
I'm getting kinda thirsty, can you fetch me a Nesquik?
Chocolate milk is what I'm sippin'
I'm Michael Jordan, you're like the sidekick, Scotty Pippin
You're so na�ve, you don't know what you're doing
You ain't got skills like me, hell I'm Patrick Ewing
Everywhere I go I be causin' ruckus
We step up in the club and the ladies wanna f*ck us
My lovin's like shrooms, my d*ck is a fungus
like a giant portabello, my d*ck is humongous
Hah, this is my Apocalypto
Runnin' through the jungle killing all the Crips, yo
I'm exiled—far away from home
I've gotta live on my own
like Tenzin Gyatso in the Tibetan Plateau
That's right, a Dalai Lama reference
I see no references is your preference
But hey, I said you're na�ve
You didn't even read my last round, now you're gonna grieve
Because even if you never even read the fine print
Let me fill you in on a little hint:
That print was large, but my rhymes were fine
If I were you I would really read it this time.
But that's alright, classic rookie mistake.
What are you, only in Grade Eight?
That's okay, no need to fear.
The sh*t don't hit the fan until freshman year:
You got high school drama like Zac and Vanessa
Or you could drop out and make it like Ke$ha,
you'll be strippin' down Poles like Lech Walesa
Yeah, no one needs male escorts
That sh*t'll just give you genital warts
Sorry to paint a picture that you just didn't need
But you may find it useful, like the Once-ler's thneed.
Yeah, I speak for the trees
My rhymes are a breeze
Blowing away haters with a giant sneeze.
Hey, grab me a Kleenex,
Time to wipe it up before we hit the remix
I could keep rapping from midnight to noon,
Hell, I could rap from here to the moon
Spittin' out rhymes like my name's Buzz Aldrin
Conjuring verses in a f*cking cauldron
Brewing like witches, wooing d*ke b*tches,
Causing more problems than computer glitches
Screw Microsoft ‘cause my office is my club,
We pop bottles every night, till we're feeling dumb
Poppin' bottles, Poppin' p*ssy,
Orville Redenbacher would be
Proud of us
Down wit us
For leavin' haters in a cloud of dust.
They don't tolerate us,
But they're the ones who made us.
Did you hear the latest?
We're the f*ckin' greatest.
Huh? What you tryin' to tell me,
Talkin' bout a fella named Muhammad Ali?
You're going down like Frazier, R. I. P.
Liver cancer's a b*tch, it really can be
But at least you die with dignity.
How'd you like to lose this battle, just like Moammar?
Or beaten by a naked Asian with a crowbar?
Ciao, say arrivederci,
To Silvio resigning amidst controversy.
Couldn't handle being in the Euro-zone
Like a blind motorist in a truck's no-zone.
Well I'm the one driving this 18-wheeler
Teaching how to flow like Ezekiel Cheever
You can take it from here, I need a breather
But if you ain't quitting, then I guess me neither.
You'll get no further in life than a flea-ridden lemur.
Your rapping is nonsence. It makes me sick.
These are our last raps, then the viewers will pick
the winner. The champion, who I know will be me.
You can bang on the door of rap, but you don't have the key.
My rhymes don't go on forever
but I can put the right words together.
I don't care who wins, but still know It'll be me.
But i'll shake hands with you man, my rapping buddy.
The curtains are near and it's the end of this round.
I hope you choose not to get up off the ground.
But now cry, baby, cry and shake your rattle
Cause, dude, I hate to say it but you're falling
Maybe it's that rapping just isn't your calling
So hey, deploy your parachute
You're falling, I'm soaring, call me President Newt.
Freddie Mac, get back
Look out for my rap attack
Hey, take security measures
Don't assume something was left by leisure
If you see somethin' say somethin'
But what if you are that somethin'?
I'm it, I'm the hottest thing right now
My rhymes are spicier than Chicken Kung Pow
I'm digging Chinese food
Cause I'm in that Chinese mood
Making great threes like Yao
Making Great Leaps like Mao.
You could say this is a small step for man,
But by now I already got this rap in the can.
It's over, it's done
Just accept that I have won.
I told you in Round One
That I'd be second to none.
They say when a clock's hungry it goes back four seconds,
But for you this is the end, I'm afraid to reckon.
You don't have the chance to try again
So now we send it into the voters' hands.
Now, as to not add injury to defeat,
I decided to keep this last one fairly short and sweet.
So Himilkyes, I've enjoyed this ride,
And now that we're done let's let the voters decide. . .
1 votes has been placed for this debate.
Vote Placed by jm_notguilty 5 years ago
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Reasons for voting decision: PRO's R3 won this.
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