Vega already accepted this battle earlier, so I'm jus' makin' the thread.
House rules, we both know 'em.
I'm lower (for now), so I'ma start it off.
Your verse ain't "bringin' more musical talent," if you "brought a sympony wit' it"/
So I'ma have a "Guilty Conscience" like "Eminem" for killin' this "Jiminy Cricket"/
I must gotta thirty-six inch dick, the way my shit's always rippin' these bitches/
Spittin' viciousness; shit's like slit wrists, the way I'm endin' ya filthy existance/
Fuck Two-Face, I'ma call ya "Face" for short/
So "gimme face", an' face fate, watch ya brains contort/
I got more word-play than "Doc. Dre" has bass to snort/ (bass = crack)
So I'm give ya the "minimum sentence" it'd be a waste o' more/ *
But unfortunately, the minimum sentence is "Death Row"/ (goes back to Dr. Dre)
So good night, Sug(ar); if I wanna finish this, I'ma spit to ya head-stone/ (Suge Knight)
Your verse wouldn't be worth shit, written from blood in ya skin, if you split it an' bled gold/
I'm winnin' wit' this "stone cold" verse; why? 'Cause, nigga, I said so/
I let go, an' unload on this "Rabbit" while he "runs" to get his boys/
Come on Two-Face, flip the coin, bitch; come get destroyed/ **
His lips are void, silent; stay that way! Don't even rip no noise/
Make a sound or secrete a gasp or I'll end ya voice/
Come at me, dawg: Hollow vs. Face, let's do it, bitch/
I'm gettin' that number one spot, almost like my name was Ludacris/***
Your game is ludicrous, no joke an' ya fame is humorous/
Laughable; practically-- no literally everything you say is foolishness/
My verse scatters off like scatter-shot, 'cause I my spit's like a gauge/
I'ma light a fire up under your ass, like you was sittin' in flames/
Your entire life's work isn't worth two cents, if you worked for minumum wage/
Actually youwouldn't be worth two cents if I gave you a penny per face/
Your last battle sure as fuck wasn't sick, but it succeeded in makin' me vomit/
But you couldn't blow up in front of a crowd, if you hit the stage wit' a rocket/
You could tell me "2 plus 2 is 4" an' I'd doubt it, everything seems fake when you talkin'/
Maybe you got the effect on things; or, maybe you jus' need placed in a coffin/
My rhymes shine like polished platinum, yours couldn't if they were lined in gold/
An' you're "livin' on borrowed time," like your existance was a "life-time-loan"/
Anyway, I'ma end this shit, it's time to finish it, I'm outty an' it's time to roll/
Besides your verses couldn't "hold my interest" if you had "mind control"/
* (Minimum sentence is death row, *and* is referring to the minimum bar limit)
** (That's part of a "Run, Rabbit Run" line. And, two-face always flipped a coin to decide what to do in the bat-man series)
*** (Ludacris - Number One Spot)


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Oh, well.

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