Board 8 RAP BATTLE: tha LEAGUE 3 Week 1

The First Week of the Board 8 RAP BATTLE: tha LEAGUE 3 Tournament.

Battle 1: fetusbucketeer vs. Chrono1219
~The Score~

fetusbucketeer: Chrono1219:

~The Raps~

Chrono1219 I was supposed to be second up, but I guess I have to lead the way. Cause Fetus already had enough, not bold enough to make his say. You shouldn't doubt he has the right idea staying in hiding. It's normal to be in utter fear of the words I'm exercising.

Take this needle and take this pill they'll make my sounds go down smooth. My injection of vocal thrill, your warped brain will feel abused. You sit down and you lay back, let my euphoria set in. I'll make up for all you lack, you'll forget about silent sin.

If you were waiting to hear my rhyme I'm sure I shattered all your hope. You would be smart to remain a mime with my words more legit than dope. There's too much in your system everything is going dark. Things were always looking grim, you were done before the start.

fetusbucketeer Chrono one two one nine more like Chrono SUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKS Now that I've burned you so hard you've decided to buy an aloe field Let me tell you about the time I got a sword to wield It was a day in '96, when I was a wee lad, and I was watching Fresh Prince - there were some laughs to be had - when I noticed Uncle Phil was suddenly looking at me I was confused because up to that point he'd only lived in TV He said "fetus, you have a gift and I want you to use it. One day you'll rap against Chrono and you'll have to abuse it. I mean seriously fucking kill him because he's kind of a chump and he smells his own farts and his dad's Forrest Gump. Oh wait I was going to tell you about the time I got to wield a sword.

Chrono1219 A sword might be to advanced for someone from the stone age. Boy don't drop your fighting stance be it evening, night, or day. Be on your toes, be your on guard, Chrono's going hard. Time for the show, get to the yard, Fetus' not getting far.

Take it easy, take it slow. Hear that bell ring, ding ding ding. Give it time, give it up. Feel your fat lip, hit hit hit. Touch the ground, count up to ten, if you don't wake your remains I'll send. Feel the pavement, you've been condemned. You'll get hell even if you make amends.

Fetus is reeling, Chrono is dealing the knockout blow. Lost all your feeling in a hole about six feet below. The last thing in your mind, before you went down. Not all you left behind, but that you lasted less than one round.

fetusbucketeer Last night I had a dream where I was hovercrafting hard, skidding over mountains and fjords; I had a monkey named Picard. I found myself inside a castle, the walls were all aglow "Suits of armor!" Picard exclaimed, but it was time to go. Deeper and deeper, we made our way into the gloomy depths before a room appeared before our eyes - my party nearly wept. Inside a book upon a pedestal our gaze could spy; upon the cover we read the words "Chrono has to die". Picard was ragged, "No, not that! He's earned the right to live!" But I stayed the course, realizing that it was either me or him. I woke up hours later with the book still in my grasp, as Chrono's mother walked in naked, with bacon and a great ass.

Battle 2: Alec vs. Mer
~The Score~

Alec: 13 Mer: 7

~The Raps~

Alec Thus begins the Alectacular, defining what’s spectacular Cuz I’m a rappin Martin Luther, dropping Truth in the vernacular. While your posts destroy our eyes, like degeneration comma macular My rhymes make viewers wet, got choice of bitches like The Bachelor.

You're just an also-ran, a backup plan, muttering "I think I can", Against a man who's dropping triples like a rappin' Denard Span. These lines are so explosive that they're contraband, embargoed from Iran, Spoke from a soul you know no darker than, so black it's hunted by the Klan

I'm a player like Jeter, don't forget, cuz I'm baller than Mr. Met. I see your sun's already setting, guess I'll rap in silhouette. Facing me's like using Uzis, in a game of Russ. roulette. Boy you look like '40s Europe, burned so hard you'll "never forget"

Mer Alright, let me cook up somethin' you won't be able to ingest, I'm a Don on the Mike like Ninja Turtle incest, Tell me, who the fuck is Alec? Oh, double-0-6? I'm James Bond on his ass, he's in trouble, OH SHIT!

I ain't a sex toy, I am not to be fucked with, like T-Rex, boy, you'll get extinct with your luck, bitch, Fuck a problem, I'm a god damn catastrophe, admirably, charged for murder, assault, and battery,

I'll fuck your daddy, I don't care about your mother, make his ass dewy like Malcom's little brother, other bitches rappin', y'all best run for cover, Just ate Alec for dinner, please, can I have another? :)

Alec Take a look at this here seedy g, holding out as double-oh-wannabe Already blew his one big shot, lastin’ shorter than George Lazenby Cuz Mer is lost amongst the sharks, like a cageless Jacques Cousteau He banks it all on one big line, worked out great for Maginot Wrapped around that lucky spit, he’s got eleven of vanilla filla He needs more than that to beat me, the Atilla of lyrical thrillas, This Killa Emcee’s a rapping marquis’, a noble issuing my rapping decrees Burnin’ b’s to the fourth degree, spittin’ so sick I’m sampled by CDC As you gloat about your quote, I’m grabbing all devotes, I’m the goat While the crowd just wants to mute ya, wishin’ Gamefaqs had remotes You’d be crying for your parents, ‘cept a shit’s stuck down your throat Best write them your farewell letter, I hear they’re really good with notes

Mer How original you are, hittin' me with lines 'bout sucking dicks, now we all know what's on your mind, can't stop the mastermind, 9 lives like felines, I'm the real deal, stop Pretending Chrissie Hynde, I'm Ruthless and Divine like my last name's Midler, throw your ass in fire like my last name's Hitler, flow so sicker, need a Theraflu Maxipad, and I don't hang around asshole like a fannypack, <-- (plural form of dirty word for vagina, to clear up confusion) I'm a steady one, cased closed, already won, call yourself Atilla, but I'm sorry, you ain't ready, Hun :( and that last line was cheaper than Mexican whores, yeah I'm out to my parents, when you coming out to yours?

Battle 3: Aeon Azuran vs. Menji
~The Score~

Aeon Azuran: 22 Menji: 1

~The Raps~

Aeon Azuran The ladies say that Double A is buff and callipygian They take one look at me, I guarantee they'll get relig-ee-on But when I heard RAP BATTLE had returned I took a break From my wooing of the babes to correct a grave mistake Made by a man named Menji, hapless member of Board 8 Who believed my rap supremecy was up for some debate; Let me assure you now, you tiny man, you grain of salt, That your mouth is writing checks but your ass is in default. You've come unarmed to a fight of linguistics Where every single one of my attacks is ballistic; I launch lyrical missiles, each word is a scud And as they hit they'll decorate my posts with Menji's blood.

Menji I’m Sgt. Hartman to you maggot, get up, get dressed and stand at attention You’re in my detention, prisoner, and I’m throwing out the Geneva Convention Stomp you dead like a cigarette butt, started your funeral fund – accepting any donation Did I forget to mention, her, your girl waiting for your salvation, imagine the frustration

You are stuck here for the summer, bummer, bet you wish for a glimmer of snow Try to escape and I’ll let the squad know, haze you better than the entire Greek Row Now you want to bribe your way out of this cell, with the promise of a vixen, tempting No need, higher-ups negotiated and got you off the hook like Nixon, exempting

My raps left you shell shocked, decreasing your rapping efficiency (like you had it) A few years of therapy might sufficiently improve your proficiency (but I doubt it) Aeon Azuran – a board eight veteran, returning to the board with oodles of praise Here is my G.I. Bill to you – sadly you get the same benefits as the other Double As

Aeon Azuran Exalt in my assault, as I point out your major faults: You say you're Sergeant Hartman but you act like Sergeant Schultz. This POW's here to trouble you, like prison food I'll make you queasy. From the slammer to the morgue? Like NORG, I won't go down so easy! For I'm a master of crime and houdini of rhyme, and lest you doubt my pedigrees Escaponomy and Escapology are my two relevant degrees And I'm no stranger to proctology, you see for the past few weeks I've been walking your streets with lighters smuggled between my cheeks Your cage is made out of wood, so now I burn it with the Zippos And destroy it faster than would a team of hungry, hungry hippos. Time to flee the scene like Steve McQueen, I'll jack a bike to border And leave your jail a smoking font of ruin and disorder.

Menji I may act like Sgt Schultz but for you I must condescend Transcending four years I taught, but you did not comprehend Your degrees ain’t nothing but pretend, you cannot contend A life outside my jail, go try it, but you will not make one friend

Try to escape but my rhymes are ubiquitous, your worst fear Just like a lockeroom of ladies, let us pick any volunteer They marvel and scale your butt like a pioneer in the hills My ladies reach the top of Olympus, wanting my god like skills

Giving you your first lost of the battle, breakin’ your hymen Leaving you vulnerable like Garfunkel without Simon Pants you and throw you in the Creek like Dawson Leery Defenestrated your childhood – now go commit hara-kiri

Battle 4: sonicblastpunch vs. foolmo
~The Score~

sonicblastpunch: 26 foolmo: 2

~The Raps~

sonicblastpunch to show some noblesse oblige i won't prolong your suffering i'll toss you like wolf hawkfield, earn the ring out with my giant swing it keeps your wounds and bruises low, still painful but not too severe -- perhaps overly generous, but that's why i'm the legend here our talent hierarchy's such that you can't even bother it you're just small business up against my dominant conglomerate my offense is tempestuous, tumultuous and splendid so if you planned to put up a fight, i wouldn't recommend it 'cause you swing that fist and you'll be moved from pacifist to masochis' it's just like omar little warned -- come at the king, you best not miss it doesn't matter what you'll try or how you'll try to vary it you'll still be bested and beheaded by the western lariat

foolmo This ain't a game boy, don't treat me like a toy Your destruction will be swift, surely all will enjoy Gimme a call, when you wanna ball, but make sure to grow some first Don't keep me waiting, for your furry blue blood I thirst They call me the flamethrower, rhymesower, mindblower, prepare to go ten notches lower Yeah, they call you Sonic, huh? But you couldn't be slower Blastpunch makes no sense, as your lyrics do neither I'm speaking the truth here, not even kidding, either In fact I'm quite embarrassed to be rapping by your side Just take this vest and watch as I commit lyrical homicide

sonicblastpunch well, if lack of talent's a disease, it's safe to say you've caught it you had five lines' worth of ideas across ten of the twelve alloted that's some of the saddest spitting that i'd say i've ever seen you dropped the ball so hard we've all started calling you robert green you're in the pitch but out of tune, you're in the game but out of time if quality were noise your act would be a total pantomime if skill were height in inches your act would be six feet underground like cleveland post-lebron you're just the most depressing scene around you'll rue the day you crossed me and you'll rue the day the votes are heard across a field of thirty-two the fans will rank you thirty-third two rounds is just too many if you'd hoped to salvage any pride -- foolmo once, shame on you, foolmo twice your shame's just amplified

foolmo If you think you've got me beat, why don't you have a seat? You'll suffer complete defeat under my heat, ain't that a treat? You're a collosus, I'm Wander, the Wily to my blue bomber Nothing to be afraid of, you're insignificant, my lives are infinite You think you're the elephant in my way? Please see me after class Like p1zza's entire existence, you don't got substance, you're crass, Palmer's bank is less empty, while the check I've got's a blank You may be Fedor, but I'm Werdum, when you lose you'll know who to thank Your hate is generic, pathetic, routine, moreso than FF Thirteen You're the mud on my jeans, the voters are my Oxi Clean I'd compare you to the air, swarming me, always there, but I don't care, I fart in your face I can't believe my first opponent was so bland, dumber than Ayn Rand, see y'all in first place