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Skorp-Eon http://www.soundclick.com/util/getplayer.m3u?id=5656034&q=hiAtrophy http://www.fileden.com/files/2007/6/5/1145933/Skorpeon%20Battle.mp3
Skorp-Eon LyricsHow this weak punk here gon beef with a vet?
Witcha high pitch voice; balls haven’t dropped yet/
You full of nonsense, you a piece of shit,
Ya rhymes are as real as the Lochness-is/
Bring the fire to the match, I’m an arsonist/
You talking that shit, i’mma stomp this prick,
I knock ya Air out, when the Forces hit,
You need a helmet for ya head like retarded kids/
I whip you real hard; Rick Ross this bitch/
Beast on a nigga, I’m a monster in this/
You a king? I’ma murder you then,
Burry you like Egyptians; right in a sarcophagus/
You anonymous. I’ll punch you in the face,
That’s the only time I ever pass-a-fist (Pacifist)/
Cuz I love war, so let’s settle the score,
You couldn’t be on “top” if you were chillin on a pedestal/
It ain’t doing you good, so get the fuck off,
Sex with no erection only time I ~come soft~/
This ain’t a challenge; I’m getting fed up,
Whats a synonym for Atrophy; Undeveloped/
You ain’t getting better, I suggest you forfeit,
Ya style’s like your sex life, you hadda pay for it/
Stop lying, you ain’t balling, you a broke bitch,
Only keys you push are the ones to a fork lift/
You a bum so you rest with roaches/
You’re hopeless; so let’s leave it at that,
Voters wouldn’t feel ya shit with they hands up ya crack/
It’s a fact that wack your at everything you ever-tried,
I would use it as an insult, but your skills can’t even come close vanilla ice/
Try to fight me? I oughta smack this geek,
I pack ~clipse~; but not the ones that rapped on this beat/
I’ll smash you to pieces, so indecent,
I ain’t boring but I’ll put you to sleep-bitch/
Do this battle like fetus; Abort it/
My swag’s like your virginity; I never lost it/
Ask them white kids, my style awesome/
Your history; underground like a fossil/
Let em know how I didn’t battle you,
And how you hadda choose a beat 10 times more wack than you/
But I’mma battle you now, and damage you/
Penetrate ya skin with more ink than tattoos/
You’re black and blue, pens poking out of you,
I guess you can say the pen ~blue~ (blew) right through/
Your skin, At is weak; nobody feeling em/
Is it just me or does he sounds kinda feminine?/
I’ma known beast; so don’t pretend,
Cuz I’ll beat the life outta of you, and beat back in/
The fact is your dying; somebody call a medic,
Or a chemist to cure him from his pathetic,
Ass rhymes that he writes, he convinced he’s nice,
I ~flow off the head~ hotter; you can ask his wife/
This weak kid needa let go; you don’t get dough,
How you getting respect, looking like Necro?/
You ain’t “G”, you are less than a peso/
That’s a dollar bitch, c’mon holla-back,
Since you can’t “face” me, I’ll leave you with hollow-back/
I devour cats, in the flesh or the net,
Smoking this fag, but I don’t mean the cigarette,
That you got up in ya avatar; trynna act hard,
Wut you trying to get across, you retard?
I’m ripping this fraud, who spittin it soft.
I’m dissing em raw, splitting his jaw with these sinister bars
Stab em in the chest so he could~ take it to the heart~/
You ain’t getting props son, you getting a loss/
Punchlines hitting, you clutchin on ya tor-so,
Give it up, I’m calling your bluff, you fake thug,
You don’t bust guns, you bust nuts
When you beat-off, yea you cum hard, all over your keyboard,
I’ll cut ya feet-off /
Watch what you say, I’ll rip your eyes off ya face/
Shove em down your throat-man, you think im joking?
Bitch, you don’t want no beef, your phony,
Your rhyme scheme is boring, ya punches are poor/
So how you gonna own me?
When I’m known to block more shots than soccer goalies/
You’re obsolete; you ain’t ever been deep,
Get burned muthafucka, stand close to the heat/
You losing the race, you can't catch catch up to me
Spelling out ya name, only time you’ll see A-trophy…
Atrophy LyricsAs burnin' smoke seeps up ya' chest I laugh
It's like the heat to your lungs the cess I have
It roasts so slow higher than the Poconos
I hope you know I laced the trees wit' ice and snow
Armed to the teeth harm to the beat how now?
Palms to the street shot down wit' Lil Bow Wow
You've no spunk I'll check ya' mate pussy cat
It's humorous lookie where the rookie's rooks be at
Shook crook he's wack Shug took his ass
Gave him wood for his record now he's "hood" he's back
From his tabu experience "o thought he got signed"
Yea he did by all the men who tattooed his behind
In jail he wails he ails assailed he cries
A busted nut nailed by the fucken Chip N' Dale guys
A fish wit' scales now he's out sellin' keys, shit
To keep locked the box that could unveil his secret
Like his LP collection his shit has been tossed
Twisted in more directions than a fuckin' Kris Kross
Burn you with wax like wicks Skorp's red and pissed off
You got fore-skins that's why your head's a twist=off
Turned off by this light switch you wanna push my butt-in
You can't touch me I don't even notice your punches
Your so under my radar like Germs in World War Two
It'd take Alexander Fleming's spit to unearth you
You're like a peepin' Tom, Cruise with men you're screwed
If you got hard in gay bars you'd get beaten and bruised
Eaten and chewed up on the media news-front
Like when Puff Daddy P'd Did-He? from smokin' two blunts
In this movie you're Forrest Gump a retarded man
The only way you'll get Oscar's by talkin' to garbage cans
I spit Venom to induce Carnage start with me
I'll play you like the Philharmonic did to Carnegie
Beat me on this site you'll get all the props you want
Then again it's most popular book is "Hop On Cock"
These "emcees" love to dick-ride but hey it's fine
Skorp designed this site for you gays to cum inside
Butterflies in your stomach when you talk to hot babes
The only boos you'll ever get is if you go onstage
After my punches you'll spit Red Bull bring ya' lyrics
A rat up to bat you'll need wings to win this
Description? A wannabe sells out like high-tops
In a Windy City now so pull up ya' White Sox
I saw what happened with solo you used to jocked him
Then after these homos bombed him you dropped him
What kinda shit is that yo that's fucken lame
I don't even want to imagine what you'd do to your mate
As the audience knows your fraudulent "pullin' triggers"
A rip-off candy rapper try to cover the Snickers
Tries to master the stares but out of step falls down
When lightning strikes thrice is when you'll get a call-out
Cuz you don't produce the electricity
All out truth your a buster and you equal sex to G's
It's like Murder He Wrote when I put pen to page
Put a cartridge in ya' neck you a Game, Gear to be played
Fill ya' stomach up wit' slugs like big macs
When I spin you a round you fold up like Zig-Zags
I'll slay you like Cain did Abel but this ain't no fable
I'll mop the floor with you then sweep you under the table
Cuz you just another Skorpeon in the bucket
Like gettin' killed while givin' oral sex this guy will die suckin'
