Instigator / Pro

Rap Battle number 45666667867845675356756785


The debate is finished. The distribution of the voting points and the winner are presented below.

Winner & statistics
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After 3 votes and with 7 points ahead, the winner is...

Publication date
Last updated date
Number of rounds
Time for argument
Three days
Max argument characters
Voting period
One week
Point system
Multiple criterions
Voting system
Contender / Con

No information

Round 1
I'm the lord of the site
I'm a sword, your a knife
I'll take your neck and rearrange the cords and the pipes
in the form of a mic

I'll spit down your throat, then use your own throat to spit
your tactics are batshit, read your own quotes ya twit

your strategy is laughably average, weak and faggoty
it's sad to see how badly you rap, but please get mad at me
please attack me with savagery and audacity
I don't want to empathically have to feel the sense of tragedy
the embarrassment when you drag your feet
and get butthurt like a big fat sissy

you've always cried and whined like you had a vagina hiding inside your mind
that's the pussy mentality
got you thinkin' I'm derived from an alien seed that's hybridized by divine
entities, but in reality
I'm designed to rhyme the kind of rhymes that effect your mitochondria like cyanide
so time to die, cause' I deny your right to life, and I'm the high
king of DA, the Iron Throne is where my ass'll be
Beat to Loop (right-click the video, click Loop and enjoy):

One step up and ten steps lower,
Fool's reckless yes this is the ring, I'm Balboa,
You can't fathom the mountains over which I've climbed you're pale boy, scaling the white cliffs of Dover,
Lose chess so checkers is you're next best bet, you neck-bent Cobra, charm you lower your alarms constrict arms like thick, slick Boa,
True misfit, Type1 on an alt, I'll show ya, You can have yourself vote for yourself and still be toast, sir.

You can deny your patterns, I can't release the messages,
But you can't stride with balance, subspecies to what this phantom menace is,
Spit with force all you want, aliens come in peace playing my anthem, Sep'ratist, you can type all you wanna, saying 'shit i'm the abs'lute best at this',
But I can smell your pyramid little bitch, your hormones packed with estrogen,
Emotion rules you, fool, and your third debate was your worst mistake, 1, 2, 3 look at this asshole's negligence,
Rap battle yourself, what sad is Mr Cobra you can rap with venom but you're bitin' your own tail, Barbossa's so run on Jack Sparrow, hapless catastrophe of a specimen.
Round 2
You're a rational madman?
not likely. you're committing suicide like you're at mass with the afghans
ready to have your life stashed in the trash can
for a radical ideological stance

I grow tired of your foolish faith based conclusions
your profusion of illusions insinuates the pre-natal contusions
from the failed abortion which produced him
RM the spectacle of such eclectical confusion
cause' you claim to be such a balanced human

mentally stable
but what you peddle is essentially fables
I don't think you're dentally able
to chew what you've now bit off,
and digest what I'm about address, to dissect, unintangle
the mess you've created, with your theories that are a bit lost

on facts,
cause' faith is all you've got. like all hacks
who claim to have the inches that there cock lacks
and make you lick their ballsacks

but your penis is as small as the smallest bit of reality
with your arbitrary hypothetical pussy-foots of causality
in actuallity to battle me you'd have to have a penis
or atleasr a clitoris, you don't even have a batterry
left in your pack, and perhaps you've seen
the typos, yes I'm freestylin' to show my capacity
could be nerfed, and still you're no match for me
In R1 there's a tiny error. I meant to say 'Barbossa's here' but didn't type the 'here' before the 'so'.

It's ridonkulous how you ee-orr your way through through the door,
Kid fronting shit, porridge-spit learn to fold your sheets goldilocks before you sleep with bear in it premature whore,
Come callin' me suicidal while you write like the Bible; one fable after another, go cradle your mother the God of Rap's tongue left her cunt too damn sore,
Filler-syllables stallin' your killin' with your 'arbitrary hypothetical' severed neck pull with click-click tick-tick talk more shit, I'll grab my hammer 'n' it's rum-pum-pum-pum straight to your jaw,
Four rhymes barely hit, think I'm scared, lil kid, when you're mentally impaired, you wish, 5 or more rhymes into a stanza and your slam-shut mind's stuck behind in time as you relive the nightmare of Heinous Hamza the Rational, that you met as you lost your limbs in that Afghan War.
Round 3
I'm a lunatic, dude submit to the mad king
when it comes to doobs and spliffs, I "burn them all" like king's landing

You think you're a God of rap?
You ain't even got a sack
you're an amateur wad of crap
that's never even been on a track

you just brag on web forums, posting the whackest shite
everyone knows you're full of shit and you don't have a life
no one cares about a sub-normal halfwit's plight
when you believe the earth is flat and white/ walkers inhabit ice
palaces in the north pole cause' you lack insight
and flunked science class which you couldn't pass, it's quite
literally the saddest sight to see your narcissistic ass just type
a massive stack of tripe with which my ass should be wiped
and still be actin' like/ you have a right/ to grab the mic/
I could just pass some gas and might/ produce better raps than this faggot writes

You're nothing but a silly little dweeb with aspergers
typing and typing away with a sad fervour
you live on the internet, and never introspect
or ask yourself why you're a fat basement lurker

what did you ever do for fame?
I bet you sit on your ass all day and play computer games
so lube your brain
cause' I'm about to fuck your mind with my super wang
of metaphysical intellectual mind fuckery voodoo, menge
until your man-boobs are stained
with the jizz that I'm shootin' straight into your face
I grabbed your bitch's hooters and juiced her
like a kale smoothie, than I spread her booty and screwed her
right in her stale coochie
there's nothing you can do man, you're neutered
she got impaled through the
poon, turned
into my whore, I fucked her blind now she uses braille to read
cause' you're a fucking loser
all you do is fail, dude geez

Take the win or the loss, depends on the mood of the voters when they wave their fingers over their keyboards.