LIVE WIRES

Tyler Durden said:
West Coast, East Coast - from the 'Sco to Flo' - I Cassanova; I don't police those. Hard head, hard knuckles and hard in the sheets, though? I put my money where my grill is - King Kong beasts most. I take attention like my life is a street show. Dude, see more, I get hella gnarly - Dude, I beat bros. Cats sings songs; Cuzzo, I free throw. I pound the street, Roman-Greco style, like I was Greek, Ho'... and, I got a wife - I taught her how to deep-throat. I got game like a hydra, with pressure like a fire hydrant on a street-hose. I look great in a bloody apron and a butcher knife, like life was a meat-show. Am I nice to meet? NO - 'cause the black ram makes you laugh at your self, lowers his horns and bleats close. You bleed close... and I lick it up, like a vampire at a freak show.

Other said:
Blood tells the gruesome tale of many an adversary fail, Like a runaway locomotive, I can't break for the weak or the frail. Not telling you twice before I put you on ice, you either roll the dice or take my advice. I raise a fist and they swiftly scurry away like frightened little mice.

ANT the RANT Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
live-wires connected, electric, spark a fresh one for the session, orchestrated vocals, like maestros, ritually hated, but elated in faces of those rivals, been two dope kids since a bros arrival, my circle’s free-stylers, with highly quotable flows, when my words collide against inner temples, minds get blown, from style shown, my mind’s landscape, a vast kingdom laid to waste, because the thoughts I make, decimate, the shit I say, deadly snakes, venomously vexing victoms, in my wake, my word-play illustrate the way to make hisssstoray... Alexanderia’s namesake, so you know I’m great. Shoutout to my compadre a long ways away in another state, but the mind remains the same. Can never tarnish a polished BK.

Crazed2APoint ENIGMA WRAPPED IN FOOLISHNESS said:
my mind sets blazes, shock, awe and amazes weave words together and trap ya in a maze within mazes crazed is jus, a murderer with insatiable blood lust the bloodied canvas causes disgust but i can't get enough, thus... i keep killing foes 100 plus, only thing that can stop me is a self imposed exodus ashes to ashes, find an angel to bust, set the wings on fire, ground em up and smoke the dust powerful individual full of beliefs in sick rituals try to kill you on a tv show just to get the residuals i can see the pitfalls ahead of me, dealing with my life philosophy so i get over the pitfall by throwing you down and spring boarding offa your body imma commodity i'm also an oddity, most people are comedy false prophets can never prosper in the midst of my sincerity realness is me, somethin most never even try to be i'm the epitome of a crazy slum poet spitting magically made ya balls disappear the moment you tried battling me you try to belittle an mc, my craft perfected so who are you to me? you can be as big as earth, but you're just my nut hair, cus the universe is me.

ANT the RANT Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
poetic wordsmith, when I work this, passionate with a purpose, hawk split, eagle eye in this cockpit, spot a fake, aim to drop it, locked-in, mark the target, realized with a keen eye, I keep my, habitat far from tarnish, politics, and combative tactics, glad a kid has his, head attached and mentality to match with, a collaborative collective, of raw kids, that spit like this, like a habit, bring it right back, attack where the battle’s at, the baddest mouth piece of the mountain peaks, seek peace, but release the beast, to feast, upon the weak, over drum beats, my tongue speak, words harder than concrete, heart grows cold, like a coward’s feet, I take the plunge and lunge to sink in my teeth deep, into a creep, make a sucker suffer, cos he tastes so sweet, I take as I please, before he takes from me, examples to be made, when I display what it takes to be an emcee, the words I say is, calculated, moves I make is, orchestrated, the fools that waited, hesitated, so came in this place, and devastated, shit’s so great, because that’s the way I made it. my BK ways, illustrated, swagger’s legit, so I stay unfaded.

BeBa DoLL said:
the deepest love, the deepest dick, i hope you know that this is it. i love you so much, i look over and see you and see your depth, you have no clue the aroma of sex.

Crazed2APoint ENIGMA WRAPPED IN FOOLISHNESS said:

unfaded, unfazed, the way the world has me these days been to hell and back, my stories could leave ya head in a daze razor blade slice ya wrist vertically when i spit purposefully here's an analogy, i'm heaven, you're hell, so you're way beneath me i see and hear blasphemy, comin from every centimeter of your anatomy how can you speak proudly spitting somebody Else's story? i'll leave you as a part of history, first person to ever be brought to the level of being the human definition of a hysterectomy cus you can't produce anything that could actually come out masterfully your own dick even rejects you cus of how you hold the m-i-c i'll simply put it like this, even the 3 blind mice can see and those who can see but cannot hear sign to me the blind mice, and the deaf peeps all agree unanimously that when peeps start spitting against me and BKP, that it ends embarrassingly check the news, we're the cause of the spike in suicide attempts from peeps who thought they could spit sick and they were exempt from suffering the same fate as the ones before them peeps thought you were about to spit, you just coughed up some phlegm my future is bright as heaven, the bulb over your head is dim got an eviction notice for you, says it was sent from life note says ''we want yours back cus you're not using it right, here's a knife'' don't write a will, you don't even have pride or integrity in sight you're good for nodda and that's always been your life's plight i pull no punches, i get gutter and gritty when it's time to fight but this was a weird awkward joke like going against napoleon dynamite you suffer from grandmacoochieitis which means you're jus not tight wish i coulda caught ya when you was developing in ya moms tummy stick a needle in the womb and pray to god i hit the vocal cords of this dummy weird thing to pray to god for, but while i'm here make this lady a whore so i can use the insult ''oh yeah? well i fucked your mom'' to settle any score

ANT the RANT Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
I give wack rappers with attitude some serious blues, when I get rude, and let loose the verbal abuse, nothing hurts worse than words that be true, and dude you’re straight pooh, I’m doodoo-proof, before you even started, you chose to loose, all the way amplified, this nerd goes up to twenty-two, I go, show and prove, and I know you dude, you’re just absurd and obtuse, and I understand you’re nervous man- so dude- it’s coo. you serve the purpose of a fool, to amuse, fucking newbs, I get it cookin, you just frozen food, I recite every night like the nightly news, live and direct, and my game shows like jeapordy or family feud, cos nephew I bring it to you, in the form of a loose tooth, and a few bruises too, when I hit’chu with the deuce, survey says, feel my the tread of my size 12 shoe, step in ring against the king of kung-fu, is a dumb move, I beat a fool, til his face is unglued, back and blue, permanent tattoos, punch in your eyes, like a raccoon, then it’s time to undermine, your wack crew, before I’m through, turn around to get right back to beating you, til you scream for a truce, but I refuse, the beatings don’t stop until morale improves, you fucking losers lose, who would choose pit Peter Pan against the mighty Zeus? Come on dudes, tell the next guy, we’re out of neckties, so here’s a fucking noose, and put it to good use.

Archetype MarQ said:
Necktie, nooses, suicide's the easy route. Stand up like men so archetype can put ya head out. Cut loose, words fly, I'm the guillotine. Bk axeman, decapitating whack emcees... but at least you ll serve a purpose, to refine our craft... above your feeble attempts to rap. Do the math. you'sa busta daring to verse with veterans. Trained soldiers with lyrical mastery of weapons. The armory's infinite, limited by only our imagination. I could drop atomics or swang knuckles in elation. Snipe from the roof or spray rounds on ya location. Riddle ya torso with rhymeslugs big as tallboys. deuce deuce, 40oz, 2liters to destroy.

Tyler Durden said:
You're like two children fightin' over a Tonka toy. I'm one mind, Almighty, built like a Jeep with fifty cals to deploy. I'm built to climb, built to rhyme and built to rejoice. Crushin' obstacles is my joy - I'm a Roadbuster, boy; Celtic soldier, fuckin' the script up like Rob Roy... like Bobby Sands. I'm kinda cocky with my hands... basically, I'm the mothafuckin' MAN. The laughter of my children, means peace in my land - that means I have a plan. The Ard Ri does what he wants - you locusts do what you can. I'mma polar bear; perfect without a tan. O'Shaughnessy is my clan. I'm a walking encyclopedia - you can call me Rand. That means I possess tactics that you could NEVER understand. I'm so on High, I don't even need to land. I laugh at you and cut your peace off, when you extend you're hand. That's how it is. That's how it has to be. We march to drums, the bodhrans bein' beatin' by our band... to eradicate your blasphemy. That's what happens when you clash with G's, the Alphas and Omegas - the BKP's. The tactics are aggressive as fuck, like killer bees; like a beast on steroids, choppin' down trees. I'm 'bout to eat... pass the hot sauce, please - my trigger finger needs some grease.

Archetype MarQ said:
Lube my verbal action to unleash, 300 rounds a second with ease. Gatling flows, spittin flame, now retreat. BK-P squad killers, indeed. Special forces, black o.poets, fatigued. Urban camo in the cypher's alley of beats.

Crazed2APoint ENIGMA WRAPPED IN FOOLISHNESS said:
passionate when i write, intricate with the words i recite give the blind sight with my vivid wordplay that i give day & night wrong or right, i never paid attention to either side if loving me is wrong, than your girl goin to hell like suicide most of the things that i say have a sarcastic charm to em ya never know if i'm serious until you're already a victim evict em, they don't deserve to breathe the same air that i spit in if my spit hits your face while i'm rhymin, you should praise it like it's a blessin harsh lessons, given out thru these rhyme sessions, killa profession sinner lifestyle like lying about shit in confession, that is if god is even listenin i suspend myself right outside the reality that you exist in i'm steady trying to live life, you're content with jus existin i'm a poet that spits from the heart blurring my lines as i go reaching for the stars? nah, i grab the universe and pull it down real low hook you to Orion's belt and call you a jock rida put the universe back right after i use the sun to set your soul on fiya rhyme style bends ya mindframe until your head is in your own ass ungodly flow, it get's super ugly and causes ya to tuck ya tail real fast you can't affect me, not even death threat me, i will never lose in a mad dash even my death is a challenge to me, race other spirits to the light cus i hate comin in last so if that's my mind state, what do you honestly think u can do to me? dumb....ass

ANT the RANT Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
Precision Instrument, within the prism of an intellectual implement, stream of consciousness, lyricism with clear confidence, I jettison the confines of “what is in” with reckless abandonment, and wreck any mic, device over the rhythm of a digital accompaniment, a complex system of bleeps and clicks, bass and some synths, and a slight hiss of static, derived from an analog recording apparatus, or perhaps, it’s the ambiance picking up the environment in which I sit, as I recite this, thoughts become expression, abstract expressionist, but aggressive when I write this, the keyboard ignites, in a pale blue light, in my office at night, when I type this, and these words don’t miss, the kid is definitely consistent, genuinely legitimate, contextually significant, wisdom from the wordsmith, who constructs his wordy sentences, for a perfect fit, that make more than simple sense, bilingual linguistics, to twist your senses up a bit, you simpletons, lack the dimensions, and the attention, to comprehend, so don’t fuck with it, you can just sit and pretend, scoff and condemn, but I’m a a king who walks amongst common men, I move forward, in unison, with my henchmen, hoping to ascend, a higher existence than just this, but if this is it, then let it be for justice, and greater good, my heartbeat’s percussion, my soul secretes substance, my eyes reveal life, my skin hides the scars within, the pain of emotion, and the cares of conscienceness, and knowing I have nothing in common with common sense. It’s time to close my eyes, in this way a new dawn begins, wake and then it’s on again. BK takes on any rivals so go call a friend.

Archetype MarQ said:
Ant spittin some vivid imagery. A Rembrandt on the mic with symmetry. We, wordsmiths, concoct ballistic telemetries, guided to your third eye, forcing epiphanies. Have you revising incites of your own reality, ashamed, admitting self-mediocrity. No gaps to be found in my philosphy...It's elementry, to me, when it comes to poetry. Creating lyrically, with energy, to erect an effigy, so clearly, elementally... my literary alchemy.

ANT the RANT Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
four-eyes, double-vision, trouble is a given, blind to the games within, or the heads of women, righteous wisdom, in a fools den, tempted by the allure of sin, from wicked lipstick grins, my mind’s framed, like that of my penmanship, from a well inked pen, and when I sit and think, I begin to comprehend, connectivity is relative to that of a friend, the ability to be one sure wears thin, facades from fakes, get to crumble’in, I hear the rumors and the mumble’in, excuses got you stumble’in, set you up to fail, but in my head it was tails, because I zoomed out, instead of looking in, had my doubts, but never took it in, ya caught me sideways like a crooked grin, exposed, like being without my skin, and I’m out again, and who knows where to begin. but this chapter’s closed, so this is the end. So read the appendix, and the footnotes, I keep my friendships close, and my enemies choke when I grip their throat. I’m a Brass Knuckle Poet, have to hustle to show it, for anyone else there’s no love, and you know this. Representative, precision engine like a Lotus, too fast for you silly hoes to notice.

S-A-double-V

I'll yoke you out, like an albino boa; rear naked choke from Destro,
latisimus dorsi flex, like a king cobra, trapezius corded;
no spectacles awarded, instead afforded it's the Red Hand of Ulster.
Nature's color-coded, the more spectacular the markings,
the more potent the poison. My copperhead stare polar, but so much colder.
I got that anaconda coil, bone-breaking serpentine swag at my disposal.
So, heed the warning soldier; I'll reproach you wit' venom, you get no
cold shoulder. The general issue can't soil my order.
Approach a master seargent and get shown no quarter.
I'll hug you 'til your bones are broken and your wardrobe's soiled.
I could just go viper and bite your fuckin' face off; leave you caroded,
and spoiled. The tactics formless cause chaos and disorder.
You're walkin' uphil, approachin' a boulder. I don' call the rollers,
S-A-double-V'll bowl you over.
My detonator'll tear a whole through your border, the frequency recorded.
I walk away, like mission accomplished,after I trigger the plastique, nails and the mortars.

ANT THE RANT

Concealed, by ancient secrets unrevealed, specialist in my field,
job done, the same way they did for 400 years, cold hard steel,
kanji script, from forearm to bicep, describe the path that I step,
monomi in absolute darkness, shinobi in the west to bring death,
contracted, but never to be contacted, I put my plans to practice,
traverse the fence, sneak in the back entrance, disguised as a servant,
hiding in plain sight, at night, wearing white, avoid shadows, stay in light,
appears motionless, despite his fade and reappears right, beside the target site,
Free solo up 8 flights, from a drainage pipe, Roulade from rooftop to balcony,
Lâché down to landing on a ledge, with firm legs, he's used to being on edge,
task easily managed, tenugui face mask, keen to not be seen from this vantage,
hira-shuriken slanted, razor sharp damage, landed exactly where I planned it,
the perfect distraction, slide into action, shinobigatana, slice through your bandanna,
and neck, in a fraction, of a second, kick your body off severed, headless and hallow,
finished off with an arrow, then take flight like the sparrow, down a pathway narrow,
in the district of Harrow, they wont discover the body for several hours, rendezvous bellevue, clock tower, in these heavy London night showers, I fade into the darkness, that's why they call me the Stormshadow.

S-A-double-V

Nosotros convenimos clandestino, yo y mi cuadrillo, cuando nosotros nos reunimos. Somos un archicofradía del primero orden, como los serafín. Nuestro equipo esta preparado a guerrar hasta el fin. Algo mas, si tenía bastidores, los mimetizaría, subia por la noche como Azrael y alzaría, las almas de mis enemigos. Yo me sonreía por los lamentos de ellos penetran el cielo, a lado de mis risas, y daba gracias a Dios por la alba y el día. Nosotros hubimos aguerridos, estamos listos por cualquier quereis que traer a nuestro país. Barricadas del acero circundante mi corazon, yo construí. Soy Rey Angélical Altísimo y de mi trono, donde yo me siento la vista es dulce y verdín. Hay una pesada regia cetro en la mano derecha de mi. Con mi cimero, mis adversarios les imprimo en sus frentes con el marco de bestía. Eres tan debil, yo puedo ver transperente de ti. Yo veo que va a pasar, como ya lo descubrí. Los perros quieren que me caigo, pero aqui yo estoy luciente todavía.

ANT THE RANT

eso es, mi amigo! lo digo, directo y en vivo, envió mi estilo, rapidísimo, como si yo, estaba tirando tiros, para matar a ti y a tus vecinos, quien vive en tu mismo piso. este hijo, es un tipo malnacido, viene con tonterías de cual este siglo, no se han visto, o hacido listo. para preparar para mi visito, el principio, tío, quien viene a un sitio como esta, para atrapar a mas enemigos, todos están jodido, dios mio, vaya lió lo que te haz metido, asesino, de apellido, y nombre secreto, completamente mio, código definitivo, entra con la mente vació, ahora estas en la matrix, como el neo, pero aquí me lo paso devino, mi sangre viene en color de vino, y puede ser la causa de alcoholismo en un vampiro, sabor latino, pero distinto, con candor y el idealismo, optimismo, ustedes no se puede, porque no te quedes en tu mismo, nacionalismo es una extensión de machismo, no tiene sentido, como dos oídos enorme y sordos sin sonidos, ojos que no miran, corazón que no nos sentimos, fuimos mas que mil kilómetros, hacia el estado nevada, nevado, el chico RANT, y el SAVO, a mi lado, tomando tragos, recuerdes ese momento, congelado, con el hielo en camino hacia tahoe? con cojones de hierro tu "bro" lo dejo salvado, y me dijiste super-plano "oye 'mano! joder! bien trabajo!" jajaja.

Each1 Teach1 BrassKnucklePoet said: you can stay primpin, ima stay pimpin these written shurikens into a verbal whirlwind encouraging competition to flourish until the world ends...oh these silly sapiens, im sprinklin color across the page like painting with sick gradients, minglin with fellow aliens, walkin across seas on breezes or stiff tail winds..im ridin until the rail ends..orgasm. then cold grabbem and makem go tell they male friends..todays the day the sale ends, raincheckin and wreckin all comers with all ailments.terminally ill but still spitten prevention medicine..step up and catch rebuttal from these distinguished gentlemen...

ArcheType (Marq) said: Hear dat pimpin...Hurlin shurikens? iight, Im like street fightin Ryu screamin ArrrhhYuhket Or Killer instinct inflicting combos out my tool kit Harken back to yester years of dat ill shit When reminisce over of you was the illest Or Paris was spittin that militant tip for the realist Lie: 'when ya buy a rap record.. do ya buy it for dance moves? or do ya buy tracks cuz the lyrics are smooth.? Cuz if ya wanna dance you should stick with the other ones, an leave this dawg alone until the dancin is done...'

S-A-double-V - Brass Knuckle Poets Society said: ...until the world ends and the dancin' is done, I'll be makin' bars bend - yeah, I'm fast wit' it, Son. The disease I got flash like a gun - Picasso wit' my tongue... I could paint a stanza, autograph, and fax it to ya'. My lyrical lasso is long - accurate like my eyes affixed to a fat-ass, in a thong. Pass me the baton and I got choice but to run... blink once, and I'm already gone... curlin' syllables around nouns and verbs, makin' 'em menage et trois... high-def wit' the blazey-blah. You can hear, taste smell and touch... my thoughts - hazy? Nah... like ecstacy on cocaine - but way more raw. Until the world ends, I'll be in a circle, curlin' grape around purple, tradin' verbals - exhalin' combustables out my jaws...

ANT ᵀᴴᴱ ЯANT of Brass Knuckle Poets Society said: Breathe out a heatwave, the prodigy seeks play, since the streets days, of roamin like a Roman, in Bellvitge, I'm a long ways from my home, different continent- I'm grown, off on my own, but with confidence shown, I never copy or clone, sloppy or thrown, when I rock these microphones, step off, leave it alone, or like my cock you'll get blown, right before I'm gone, Nena de pelo marrón, como Eva Perón, I'll leave a spot on the top of your tail bone, and sail on before dawn.

ArcheType (Marq) said: Riigh Riigh, We be flying friendly skies, Rhymes & lyric's the high, Where soliloquies massage similes so deeply that metaphors get envious Spittin syllables for these silly bulls.. shit choke artist, wrap they tongue around they mind, got both of'em str8 twisted.. Like ZOOOM .. over they head cuz they missed it, Get ya weight up, get ya mind right You over par in the course called life Intellect lacks so you call it collect No honor in ignorance, Whats to respect? Haha, this a rope-a-dope, an u tha joke It dont stop with a tko, No mercy, nope. Cuz I brutally beat busta's brainless A beast bustin bones... but blameless

S-A-double-V - Brass Knuckle Poets Society said: I'm blameless... naked, I stand shameless. Flawless, like a ninety degree angle - she can't name this. We'll call it ice-pick penetration. Priceless; my ism is art - they need to frame this. I steal her breath, and leave other Alpha's nameless... Jon-Doe-Toe-Tag and open casket face lift. Beta's and Gamma's... well shit, they get castrated - shhh... don't be agitated, it'll be painless. I got balls like Rodeos, so bring the pain - I'll entertain it. Capricorn - overcoming obstacles is my nature... my life, pursuant to trials and tribulations. I'm certified, purified... by the fire and the flame; I'm used to bein' hated, so stand in line and keep waitin'. I throw up the Devil's Horns and keep skatin'…

ANT ᵀᴴᴱ ЯANT of Brass Knuckle Poets Society said: Wit triples sixes, I blitz this, mic, wit the quickness, gifted, but on some sick shit, it's a habit when I rip this, flesh, like some slit wrists, on ya mistress, she put on a good show tho, sorry you missed it, drip-drip, is what it did-did, when this kid, slid, his dick in, the chicken, was kickin', pulled her in, the kitchen, trash compact'in, fliped the switch'n, put her fist in, watch'n her grimacin', grinnin, as I'm listen'n, her insides twistin from the pain it's in... I'm vio'lent, the moans went sio'lent, tried to untie her when, I thought I heard some sio-rens, I think it's time to say bye my friends... lock your doors or else I might come by again.

Each1 Teach1 BrassKnucklePoet said: he's triple 6's, im stickin to double digits.. snake eye'n on the prize like anacondas on sick midgets.. i smoke until im lifted.. needing handicapped assistance, with a gold medalist's persistence im shaping my own existence into something thats consistent. with this lil life o'mines, im spitten'til its quitin time whend you ever design a line, to baffle one of mine? competitions fine .. but lets lay it on the line.. if you wanna tussle with muscles you'll get smashed to turnbuckles. catch knuckle and chuckles from this cat and his hustles. cause im rustling wranglers and dismembering strangers. come and walk with me we'll discuss our inner angers...

"I sit and watch you front reckless, like third-person perspectives." -Ant the Rant

S-A-double-V - Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:

I stunt like X-Games, and X you off my checklist... eat a formidable brain for breakfast. My curricular is extra, so check this... my flow is terrorist, hit you where it's least expected. The stratagem, like a nail-bomb... but way more reckless, exploding in every direction. I wear a wrecking ball, as pendant and necklace. Try to snatch my pride and get embarrassed and disrespected... aggression - fuel for my erection. Demolish the facade and resurrect it, lace up game and teach lessons. How do you stop it, if you can't defend it? I rig examples, like presidential elections. I'm a tattoo surrounded by millions of freckles... a grand master who's never been bested. Your antics lack direction, like a chicken runnin' headless. How can you reap success, if the expense has never been accepted? My crew's amused by you - you'd sell your soul to be respected...

-Each1 Teach1-BrassKnucklePoet said:
Demolish the facade and resurrect it, lace up game and teach lessons. How do you stop it, if you can't defend it? I rig examples, like presidential elections. I'm a tattoo surrounded by millions of freckles... a grand master who's never been bested. Your antics lack direction, like a chicken runnin' headless. How can you reap success, if the expense has never been accepted? My crew's amused by you - you'd sell your soul to be respected...

say what?.

ANT ᵀᴴᴱ ЯANT of Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
what the fuck type of math is this? when fuckers can't tell me, what a fraction is, I'm one-over-one kid, the whole bid,
so dope, you couldn't hope to capture this, without having to cope with a few fractured ribs, and a swollen lower lip,
you lost, like when you're rollin' lit, tryin ta find some chick's apartment, to pay a late night visit, circle'n K and 25th, but forgot to get those digits, like a stupid bitch, you need a map for this, because without the right access, it just might get hazardous, and get got, for the bidness. storylines from the witness, from a mind so deep and dark, it's probably got bats in it, I wear brims to keep a lid on it, there's no telling what the gifted kid's got to give, bruce lee like emcee, because I'm passionate, about the ass I kick. mastered my flip, from now on I'ma sign raps that I spit, with an asterisk, legally speaking, it just don't get more badass than this*

♂ΆяčнзŦұpє™ (B.K.P.S.)♂ said:
Badass'ed'ness, astronomical Asterisks
Flinging boulders over ya shoulders,
Heads smashed to the flatness
Brass knucks swell ya up like blunts, we rollem fattest
Better than LL, he's bad, Im baddest
Or Big PUN, he fat, Im phattest
No father to my style, call me a 'bastid'
Phenomenally disembowelin the captured
Imma Omen, evoking the raptur'a
The decrees issued will out last ya
Im clear & concise and u a bumbling babbl'a
Wolfin ass, mean mugging, Saber rattler
My voice like opera is to glass, it shatters ya
Come on keep up!, u lack the stamina
Predator tactics to cripple the scaveng'as
Fierce Fangs, long talons to ravage ya
Have ya trippin, seeing visions, dub me'a conjur'a

-Each1 Teach1-BrassKnucklePoet said:
these kids come wicked with delivery...
ladies jock the styles symmetry..
a 12 pack of flatblack
and i define can control wizardry...
a slave to my sickness
but i'll bust this one willingly.
stumble upon my killin spree,
this evening? home delivery.
i rumble in the jungle
to obtain some sense of feelin free.

My crew shines true - supernatural

SAVV Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:

My crew shines true - supernatural, like the third eye on a blind dude. Let me remind you - B-K-P-S is a life-style; fuck a rhyme, fool. I'll blow the hand off the sign you throw up, if it ain't mine: schooled. Like a mine field and if it mine - screwed. Kinda' rude, hella nice - tried and true, immaculate, like Jesus Christ to a ripe bruise..

Each1Teach1 of Brass Knuckle Poets Society Said:

fuck is up with the lack of nice crews? need to take heed and some advice too, if you aint coming hard as fuck you aint spitten to the right dude, better hope you catch yer boy in a nice mood, cause i crumble flakes into the water like fish food, B is to the K like its P into the S, synonymous with ridonkulous when we rockin this...youd need the 3rd eye and an eagle or a hawkeye with a twist, to even catch a spy report before you conquer this...Teach1 sponsors this, and any and all brodcasts, download it to yer eye phone, subcribing to my podcast...

SAVV Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:

We make 'em look like mousketeers underneath a monster's fist. I go savage off the dome, like the lighter in my grip, on the beer bottle top - I don't even need to twist. I just make it go pop, use it up and then I go piss, like Tarzan from the tree tops, on an angry chimp - I don't miss. I just laugh at your red eyes, and spit silk at your lisp. One word is Drown1 up in the work shop spittin' bullets at your blimp, like Willy Wonka keeps his golden tickets chocolate-dipped - sweet as fuck, only a chosen few hold the gift. It's high-powered style, like a beanie and some Adidas kicks. I rock poetic, like Jack when he rips on a jack-off. I'm colder than Jack Frost on a witches tits, so rewind this shit, listen up and make a wish. Humanity's a virus and my immunity will spark jealousy and make you sick, cause I manipulate my will, like all the strands of papyrus in the hands of all of Egypt. B-K-PEACE is like the Tree of Life, with heavier fruit and taller reaches, steppin' steel-toed pourin' salt on the leaches, breathin' chronic smoke more seductive than the smell of peaches. Please believe it...

Each1Teach1 of Brass Knuckle Poets Society Said:

Throwing ill sauce, you love it more so retrieve it, a labrador for metaphors, with the will of a heathen, best to listen to teach speaking, liguistical sex freakin complete with heavy breathin, text formatted for nipple tweekin, paragraphs leave crotches leaking and yer girls knees weakened,

Crazed2APoint IM AN ENIGMA WRAPPED IN FOOLISHNESS said:

guest spot

Posers are only good for posing for chalk outlines, write between the lines to construct my new rhymes... i'm ahead of time itself so i already know what you have to say, i live at a faster pace, so i'm always set to win life's little rat race... my insanity breeds genius moments, a rare breed of rhymer that can travel back in time just erase the meaning of atonement... it benefits my world view, i carry grudges forever and i hate you, street lights just came on so it's past ya'll wack rappers curfew... i've already outlived my life expectancy, so that is why i live life so damn recklessly, wrecking fake MCs till they understand that the truth is me, and truth be told you're fucked like the kids who shared a bed with MJ ''heeee heeee''... i grab my crotch as people tell me to go to hell while i plummet, i am not the Antichrist i'm just close enough to hell to feel the heat from it... you damn nutwits, nutting up for a battle of wits, when you come about as equipped, as a prostitute with a sewn ass and sewn upper and lower lips... call me quotable, or you can call me gospel, call me anti social, call me the anti wack hero cus i flow over your vocal... your octave levels can't reach where mine begin at, you can reach your peak but you still can never see my apex... relax, don't cry, it is not that serious, fuck a coherent thought i like to rhyme while delirious... Crazed is just, i mean he is just, leaned up against the sun just looking down on us... and it's not because i think i'm better than everybody, i just rather kick it in space and look for higher life forms to battle me.

Mr Nobody aka TiNa BaMBiNas Lucky Charm Said:

Thoughts swirl, mind is unfurled, a sweet piece of verse is salvation, the feast cerebral for the worthy all over the nation...Believe and be heard, let the masses feel the word.

Each1Teach1 of Brass Knuckle Poets Society Said:

Somebody say word, ya feeling the masters strokes across the ceiling, spitten patterns absurd, still serves to reflect feelin, and when dealing with dealers of death, breathing the freshest of breaths, i cannot be held responsible for styles i take to the depths. styles i pick apart, till there is nothing left..cause its the best of the best, with something on chest that needs to get the fuck up off it before it smothers the zest, for living life within the light, sun rise unto set, you look surprised or just impressed, this aint as fresh as it gets, i got 93 million 9000 flows..this just so happens to be the one that a chose, to battle foes and false prophets, bankers with bad stock tips, writers with no soul and no can control, i kick it and let it roll, right on down the mountain, excited about rappin and keepin them hands clappin...

Mr Nobody aka TiNa BaMBiNas Lucky Charm Said:

Clappin to the rhythm of the soul, inspirations' the goal...drown the rest in their uselessness, can't no one top this, thus the cause of their restlessness, we constantly plannin', plottin', schemin' and dreamin' of a better way and the dawn of a new day...

ANT the RANT Brass Knuckle Poets Society Said:

Socrates, digging through the soul's crates, finding the philosophies of irony written within essays to be so great, causes my soul's essence to escape, Nirvana in my mind-state, I shine ornate, to illustrate my fine tastes, refined trait, golden, like that which is my state. I'm holden a tool deadlier than a bite from a dangerous snake, cottonmouth spitting venom in your dinner plate, send them to that different place, where it goes dark, and all you feel is the end of your heart rate, and no one moves a muscle a to resuscitate, they rest and they wait, for it to be too late, we play with raise the stakes, bluffs are met with post-haste, cos when shown hate, a player displays perseverance over the adversity of any rough fate, now that's game, like Kentucky University, when they take the NCAA, elite 8.

ANT ᵀᴴᴱ ЯANT

I'm a blue period Picasso stuck on a wall In the middle of a hall in Barcelona Trying to figure out how to get down 'Cause this solitude is bringing me down The paintings around me, they don't understand me

The S h i n i n g™

I philosophize, and interpret a pained man through Irish eyes. They don't smile, they just gauge intent and size; when it's necessary to descend or rise, to hold fast or sever the ties. The warrior's creed: it's do or die. And it's all blue, like a field of Irises beneath a Starry Night, like a genius, who severed his ears so he could feel the strife, and feel it so true, that he could lay it on canvas and make it scoff at you. Like a fennid who laid his life on the line, after he honed his spear, sheared off a hair, let it drop onto the leaf and watched it split in to two. You can't hear, but you can feel the tune, vibrate through bone and sinew. I'll make it all right, after I shed a tear or two. I'm just a man who's aura cruises from hue to hue. I'm just a beast who longs for the chance to unleash all the abuse, that he had to endure; that he had to digest despite feigned demure. Can you comprehend the magnitude? Nah, 'cause you're too insecure, to ever sacrifice to attain what you feel is pure. I keep it here, as a testament of the antithesis of reputable, because reputable is excrement. Acceptance means you acquiesced, gave in to selfishness and let your principles get bent. It's been assessed, my blood line is heaven-sent, ever-young; we'll go to war naked and make you irrelevant; so prodigious we'll go to hell before we ever become celebate. I gaze at the portrait, like a solitary fortress, and exonerate my intent to remain fidelis, stabilis et fortis. O'SEACNESAIG

ANT ᵀᴴᴱ ЯANT

Rich with depth and vision, convinced by my convictions, I come to visit, an exhibit of extraordinary men, gazing back to where I am, in low lit reverence, like a work of Rembrandt, I sit in isolation, having a conversation, with the shadows of my self-conscience, self-confident, I contemplate the context, that convex conflicting concepts, my creative edge, the situation sits within my brain, waiting for an exit from my head, an artistic outlet, catch wreck, my location, Los Angeles, in the midst of plastic-existence, I find realness, no longer willing to hide from my mistakes and sins, live as an exhibitionist, comfortable in my skin, bled red from when my good intentions were forsaken, a gallery of thoughts from within, amongst masterful creations, vocalizing the vices of a venerable vocation, my heart and soul, baroque, an artist of appreciattion, paint this perfect picture as plainly as it seems, pain stains the inseams, amend these ends, and what they mean to me, cut me, color me interesting, essentially, sketching my life out, one etching at a time, the fundamentals of foundation, a Philosopher in Meditation, inspired by the inspiration of religious indoctrination, the way he portrayed the plight of Isaac to the hands Abraham, the knife that left his father's hand, the sacrifice of his son, or The Blinding of Samson, elaborately designed, inspired by the divine, framed the frame of mind, captured the action within a dimly lit caption, questions and answers, a cataclysm, within my life's canvas, hang my hardships, like an emotional portrait, cut me open, rip my heart from it's hilt, as I lay lethargic, riddled with guilt, The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp, beautiful, the contrast between this, and to the portrait of Artemis, a regal visage, as she sits, before a manuscript, offered chalice, a chance for a sip, I consider this, in my silence, how does one discover such a talent, and from where does this exists? I suspect, inner dissonance, the edge of reason, perhaps the crazy creates the confidence, to be deep and distant, to dream with the esteem of a 16th century artist, I'd spend my entire life, wondering if, I had a portion of these gifts, would my works, be appreciated, would people be reached by it, or would all slip, within the cracks of an already fragile figment of an imaginative sense of self-entitlement, egotistical product of a hostile environment, angst ridden, self-subscribed artist, certifiably arrogant, piece of... HA! as if... I'll be the first one to tell ya, I'm as rad as it gets.

The S h i n i n g™

No matter the day or time, I remain in an insane frame of mind, 'cause I'm so far from normal, that I make my own way of life; no black, white or gray lines, just bursts of color surrounded by a frame of painful nights. I intake my reality and regurgitate painful plights; the stuff of mythos, impossible to imagine even if you might... have the gift of divine insight. Inspired from inside my spine, I wield a divine rite, as I juxtopose the dark and the light, contrast my instincts of fight or flight and give birth with a flick of my knife across the starry sky of my own mind; sprinkle diamonds across a background of blue malachite. How'd I get this adept, as I carve symbols and signs out of my inner rawness, minus the constraints of wrong or right. I step back and breathe, pleased with sight and exercise my God complex as I work through the night; proceed with coal and graphite to provide for my angels and acolytes. I translate my need to create, as I meditate and work in a zone without the need to hesitate. They tell me to give them a site. The voices sing to me. I let the music play and conduct a murderous symphony - what a pleasant scene to me. It isn't what seems to be. If I didn't unleash the beast, I'd live with the urge leave horrific scenery. Limits are bent elastically, as the voices scream to me. The choruses rise, as I exercise my calligraphy dynastically. Perfection forms from chaos, as I turn potentially into actually.

ANT ᵀᴴᴱ ЯANT

Potentially dangerous activity, static with me, is actually contentious, wrath be my delivery, this is how we live and breathe, nothing was given to me, except the gift, and that I give back to you free, style, when I organize with the team, the BK philosophy: Flossy: So we stay Shiny. Cocky: The 3rd leg makes the ego very bossy, Deadly: cross me and get paid by the tooth fairy. Your dentist can thank my after I let loose a flurry, The balance is in harmony, chaotic but disciplined, never an advanced warning, given to our adversaries. Consume the arteries of our enemies, like Aztec ceremonies. All is fair in war homie, survival only, even if it's me, on my lonely, with my springfield armory, XD40, war is what we bring to the party, the cold steel stings, hot led through your body, the gunpowder's burning, bringing surfer smells to your nostrils, like fiery rings to the eternal infernos of hell, running through your battle scenes, like an Aries, symbolically charging at the hill, horns forward looking for the kill, gorging, on those who fall before me.Brass Kuckle Poets, this is a call to glory! Let history recall this story. Let the way we display, say more about how we parley, than how our haters behave. May they stay, forever in dismay, for fear of our warrior-grade weapons made, for an enraged brain, fingers tighten, palms clinch, to form a titan's flamed fist, and beat it, against the doors of their unsecured fortresses, built from hay and dog shit.

The S h i n i n g™

I paint an unpleasant picture of parallel images repeated, in descending order until married at a central point of meeting: a frivolous band, who were blinded and conceited, liked to war on the weak and the mistreated. They made the mistake of engaging a group of rogues adept at martial techniques and scholarly reading, carnivorous collegiate. The blasphemous band, put their trust in the hand of an ignorant man and insulted that to which we were creeded. Believe it, merciless judgement was diligently deeded. Dealing death, Cernunnos at a sanguinary feast, I reared my horns and heaved my chest, as I beat it, hoofs cloven, blade doing the cleavin'. We collected red mud, every precious drop of red blood, leaves, flesh and ash, 'cause it was needed; left Michaelangelonian sculptures of the heathens, eloquently completed, as a testament to our ruthless demeanor; let the leader live, legless, to gaze at his meal in agony, too agonized to eat it; stumps seared to cauterize the wounds and staunch the bleedin'; scarred discs branded with Capricorn, a warning to all those who would read and heed it, to recall the river of blood, and like a parrot, repeat it. I carved a symbol on his forehead of a mediated goat-and-fish-scaled-tailed-bleeding, held his massacred visage over crystal clear water to give the coward credence, of our unparalleled pre-cedence. Images flash of his pregnant wife, before her journey to the afterlife: the horror of Saturn the Wing-ed, as I cesarian-sect her belly, like a DaVincian diagram, and starting with the arm proceeded to eat her third-trimester fetus; deliberate as Cronos, wielding the Scythe of Time, that leaves Mankind depleted.

"You might say that I'm apathetic.
    I don't care enough to dispute that"

ANT the RANT Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:

Apathetic to protect what beats so fragilely,
Pathetic to think I could defeat feelings that I truly believe,
Sympathetic to such a degree, that other people couldn't care to see,
When a heart bleeds, what pours out is what we unwillingly concede,
We hold fast to our dreams, and don't speak of these things that make us weak,
We wear our masks, and conceal our true selfs, for fear of being a human being,
Emotionally upside down, so much that we can't tell the floor from the ceiling,
So we sit spinning on ceiling fans, grinning ignorant and feeling grand,
Watching the coffee table circle around our dangling hanging hands,
reaching for the remote for a semblance of control, over our daily demands,
In this digital world, of holograms, and personality scams it's hard to be a man,
My keyboard holds the key to my plans, I hit.. Option, then Escape, with Command.
Abort task, and learn to just sit back and relax, and read between the lines like a fax.

Crazed2APoint IM AN ENIGMA WRAPPED IN FOOLISHNESS said:

I keep my ear to the street,
and i listen to it's heartbeat,
look all around me, see roses growing right from the concrete,
feed it with drops of my blood but keep it discreet,
showing signs that i care will be used against me,
constantly, begging for a lil bit of sanity,
sorry, that was my insanity speaking...
i actually love my fucked up mentality,
brutality is more my thing,
fatality to quickly ends things,
i'm at my wits end thinking about the same things...
on a day to day basis,
i see all to familar faces,
those who are faithless,
and the ones so phony they're faceless,
i begin to feel restless,
but the blood is never on my hands, i'm like steel, i'm stainless,
use your brain less and less,
puts a stop to all progress,
so keep it moving and the future can be anybodies guess,
i've never claimed to be the best,
i'm a realest, i'm heart felt just get things off my chest...
the realest person you'll ever know in your life,
the type to snatch life right from your windpipe,
you won't miss it you weren't even using it right...
taken everything for granted,
seeds already planted....
weeds growing in the garden i always seen it comin,
you gave into temptation and left your world dented,
try to reach for the sky but your feet were cemented,
and i did that to teach you a lesson and cus i am demented...
been having an odd world view lately,
but hopefully the apathy i feel daily,
will be something locked in my personal history
can only move forward when your mind state is right
happiness is a real and always worth the fight
so i take my deep breath and remind myself every night
that all apathy aside, each day i wake can be alright

ANT the RANT Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:

Reel the real, mirror's in my face, but the image... is never really clear,
so surreal... to feel... so artfully artificial, articulate aficionado, with automatic android tears, I avoid crowds to get my inner-thoughts clear, from the pressures of an inner-city atmosphere, I sit amongst the winners there, in class to pass, but played the rear, a player punk'd by the pressures of his peers, learned to lead, concerned with what it takes to succeed, I used to burn the weed, then I turned 30, and needed to breathe, needed to believe in me, goals needed to be achieved, reality, live the life outside the 2D screen, no lies on live tv, my eyes too tired to see, these guys are nothing that I strive to be, so I walk in righteous dignity, self-assured defined by my own kind of divine divinity, my holy trinity, is mind, body and spirituality, heart on my sleeve, so hard to believe, until you sit and cry with me, I'm no angel, but I try to be, see the angle from a wide degree, 360... 5 days left to bleed, calender pages, fall to the floor like loose leafs, can't always be kickin it like bruce lee, fists of fury, clintching a fifth, with vision's blurry, Judas in my midst, keep your judgments for the jury, and I'm not budging, there's no hurry, budget the morally bankrupt, and give the opposite, big bucks, to those that deserve a come-up, Let's see what type of world will turn-up, for the rest of us, In Corrupt We Trust, the symbols on my currency, interestingly enough, go unnoticed as long as we can buy stuff that we love, I'm too in love, to practice tough-love, so I fantasize over lady luck, I want to rough-her-up, compromise my values, because the value, I place on valuables, validate, the validity, of my existence in this universe, sorry no time for you and I to verse, I'm on my way to buy my second wife, a designer purse, and a pack of lifesavers, to symbolize that my life's work got worse, haunted house in the middle of the suburbs, I'm such a giver, so I selfishly act charitable, the child on tv gets his or her, a life fully sponsored, but all I need is the life that I deserve, so I sit out on the side of the curb, disturbed, like the rest of the garbage on a Thurs, a hope to be recycled, or at the least get my life refurbished, with some superficial polish, and I'm nervous, hoping that my true colors don't surface, rusted faith, bruised, busted and scraped, with war-paint, mirror's in my face... but the image... is never really clear, just like I said in the first place. here to repeat the same mistakes, groundhogs day, same day, different year, trapped in between time and space, or however we define the moments that we waste away... before it all disappears.

Crazed2APoint IM AN ENIGMA WRAPPED IN FOOLISHNESS said:

Hard to decipher thoughts, of past things fought,
pride and happiness can't be bought, remember all you're taught,set to walk the walk, never listen to things people talk,
haters stalk, try to trip you up on your way to the boardwalk,
big money dreams, busting at the seams, precise like a laser beam,
cut from a different cloth extra clean, you push weight in the streets but i stay lean,
look at everything i'm seeing, have seen, maniacal laughter from below from the unseen,
demons around the scene, always come extra mean, unforeseen circumstances try to take away sights so serene...
brain hemorrhaging events, never knew what they meant, i'm always on a search for things that are heaven sent...
set to create happiness in any event, resentment leads to self confinement, so shackled i have never been, hell will always be hot you cannot change the climate, smash fingers through hell's wall and climb up out of it....
hitch a ride on an angel, see life from every angle, leave every fucked thought i ever had strangled, go to a ledge and let all my burdens dangle,
caught up on my chain tangled, shake my chain till my pendant is single, look at the ledge and laugh at my burdens hanging like shingles...
go back to my block, my neck and shoulders have a new top, level headed now cleaning up the streets more than cops...
on a new journey now i cannot stop, fuck a road block, get over it by grabbing the top, of the universe and climbing atop...
observe what goes on, look at who's dead wrong, never judge though cus each always has it's own, look those who struggle and give em a loan...
doesn't always have to be money can be words of wisdom, i been through it i've felt dumb, so speak of my experience and hope it helps em....
righting my wrongs, while i'm writing these songs, giving a helping hand to help others along,..
so that when i'm gone, my soul can smile as it looks down on earth, finally happy cus i finally understood what life was worth.

ANT ᵀᴴᴱ ЯANT - Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:

His Dhalsim style is too weak, so thin it needs some meat, I bring beef like Zangief, to slam a creep down to the concrete, I take my Fight to the Streets, leap like Blanka the Beast, from the trees to the blacktop of the back alleys, me and my family, World Warriors, Styled soldiers, Guile, with a back fist that would fold ya, and we can get chinese, like Chung Li, Ha-Ha-Ha hold it in, Haudoken, I release my energy, My lungs look like Ken dressed in the an all black Gi fit, from puffin on the marijuana, fat spliffs like E-Honda thick, get me some yoga-flame in this bitch, fucking with me is dangerous, I bring you a fight, every night, like Balrog live on the Las Vegas strip, Round One Fight, react swift with a scissor kick, followed by a tomahawk chop, as I float across the top, double-sweep your legs to make you drop, wind up on the black-top, seeing stars, before I finish you off. uppercut to the jaw, slow motion falling into some exotic cars. The next level... I face-off with my counterpart.



The Shining™ - Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:

Round two... fight! Day or night, I'm ready to take you out, if you in my sight. You hear the jets on my stage when they take flight. The charge starts, and I already been holdin' my chi down for two seconds, like... SONIC BOOM!!! Gimme room, 'cause I don't sleep right. Supa' soulja', wit' a tattooed shoulda', and a sonic knife. I'm government project and I've already sacrificed my life. I love killin' more than I love my wife; it's the special ops watch, and I'm on suicite. I get paid to snipe, with a mohawk and a camel back full of malted right. Yeah, I'm not right, but this is my shyte. All I'm good at, is stickin' cats wit' the pike. I ride wit' savv dykes and heavy artillery cats, who'll spit a thousand rounds at your mic. If I catch you at close range, I blast you wit' the light. The shock-wave is heavy. I'll kick you so hard, it feels like you got wit' a semi. I'm grimy, but so savvy against the enemy. A thousand assassins is like ten o' me. I'm all death's head, 'cause no one in my vicinity is friendly. I was made for this like Rambo, except he was make-believe. My wife has ten purple hearts that commend me. I'll swing my fists and sever your face, so deadly. I take lives to earn my bread, G. Every ten generation has ten o' me; I'm so unique that no one knows I even breathe. If WWIII's the only option, then they send me. Upon my arrival, I shed my parachute and there's nothing to contend. This your end... you and all ten thousand of your men. I harness my chi and then I bend, soundwaves in circular formation and turn military into pretend... situation solved, Guile's here and the threat has been resolved. I light my cigar and contemplate if humanity will ever evolve...



ANT ᵀᴴᴱ ЯANT - Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:

I enter the cage to roaring applause, I stand, take a deep breath and I pause, as a masked man, armed with tiger claws, the guitar strings sing to me, and for my cause, in the background of this restaurant, I wear a porcelain mask, to protect my face against any mishap, my aim, to stay a handsome lad, I can live forever as long as my beauty lasts, life is lavish, and I love to laugh, I stand on center stage, silhouetted by flamenco dancers, as I unmask, to recite my nightly stanza in Spanish...

"El matador combatidor-cantante, cante en el base, con cuidado mi amor, por que este señor viene con candor, el super suave escritor, mi vida es todo un esplendor, por ejemplo entre mis frases, dibujo un estilo de lujo, y lucho por mi, y a mi mismo, es un medio entre mis sueños y mi vida exterior, pase lo que pase, hace lo que haces, este tipo esta en frente al ataque, y grito en ingles, "Vega is the best!" y no me chilles, porque y asi, es... la cosa que no conoces es la cosa que te pone bien, en el suelo donde los peros se pisen"

As I finish, I end with a grin, red roses, on the floor at my feet, as the crowd waits for me to speak again, but I hold my words, raise my fists, upwards towards the ceilin', my blades extrude as they call for their next victim, my blade hasn't yet eaten, so come get some. I dawn the tattoo of a dragon, wrapped around the torso, and chest, of a fearless competitor / bull-fighter / master of ninjitsu...

My gift to you, a swift demise, for I despise you, there is not enough fight inside of you, I stand as a man, tried and true, blonde hair, with eyes blue, a Castillian prince, pridefull, a vision beside you, waiting for the call to battle- We fight, Round Two... backflip behind you, and slide kick you, roll forward, and slice you, climb the height, of the fence, and swan dive at you, there's no defense you can do, leap off once again, and drop you, to the platform, it's over already, I start laughin at you, defeated in shame, and I turn my back on you, I bring more game than fuckin Capcom do... keep my mask on, I can't even look upon you. super slow-mo after my combo is through, the blood drips hit the floor, right before you do too.

The Shining™ - Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:

When shit's 'bout to hit the fan, I'm yoked up in fatigues with a camouflaged comb in my hand, tryna' make the mohawk do a hand-stand. I dropped ten grand, just for kicks, on the fact that I'mma crush ya' like tin can and Guile's gonna be that last man standin'. I got your life for ransom - I put that on my dog tags, and my wife-beater tan. I can't wait to grab you in mid-air, hit you with the body slam, and hear your skull thud when you land... watch you bounce like a rubber band... and hit you wit' the cannon-cannon-cannon... I'll throw you ova' my shoulder like a paper plane. I jump from hueys and apaches for damn-near minimum wage. I'm so cut up, it's insane. I get paid, to bring the lightning, thunder and the rain. You really think you can hang with me, Mayne? Nah - Soni'-Soni'-BOOM!!! I bring a tornado of pain, like a kinetic cannon-cannon-cannon... I'll blow you out the frame and I can swing 'em all day, the recon warrior way. I jab-jab-to-flash-kick, jab-jab-to-flash-kick, leave you wobblin' like a spastic. You dancin' to halo of song-birds is automatic. I'll hit you with an upper-cut tha's fuckin' fantastic... walk right up, intercept and slam you, like you plastic... leave you bruised and beat worse than a swastik. Boy, I got a gang o' tactics. I'll bash you like I threw brass knuckles at your face and told your mouth to catch it. I'll leave you limp, lispin' through some fat lips. I get paid to practice beatin' soldiers 'til it's two breaths from drastic, two jabs from a spinning back-fist. I'll smash your legs from long range and have you layin'on your back-quick... catch you on the attack and suplex that ass in slow motion, like it's magic. You don't get no salute - I pull the comb up out back pocket, spike the 'hawk and mad-dog you while layin' there tragic, wonderin' what-the-fuck happened, hopin' all you need's a little chap-stic, for that bruised ego, smashed lips and broken back, Trick...

£åÐҰ - Ҝị££å^TM : Talks Shit, Then turns Bitch... Yet to hear back of that "Realness" that he spits.