Old Verse #1

I’m +Young+ and soon to make +Bucks+, leaving no +T-I-P’s+
With the flow Notorious like B.I.G. 
Lyrically I train hard with verses that damage your brain hard 
And remain hard enough to leave your brain scarred 
Like seizures, rhyme speaker, keep my flows in freezers 
Emcees catch hundred degree fevers
IceGod is the name, and I came to blow lames 
Out the frame and reclaim the lyrics to the game 
Cause there’s a lack of lyrical talent that’s ruining the balance 
Of hip-hop, it’s like your favorite emcees are absent
Call me the substitute with the absolute
Rhyme style that's way above emcees' altitude
Despicable pitiful cats cannot measure up to my lyrical
Pinnacle full of formidable subliminal syllables
To leave them in +Konfusion+ with the words +Organized+
Next on my +Extinction Agenda+ is the commercialized
Hip-hop that's got me +Stressed+ while I'm lyrically blessed
With the skill I possess as I slowly progress
With the right synonyms and verbs, no hyperboles
To the Jewish fake emcees, I'm a Nazi from Germany
In my holocaust, I bring more fire than Molotov
Don't worry if I write songs, I write monologues
It just shows that when I decompose with flows
Intestines, guts, and brains get exposed, case closed

2

I've heard dope MCs and you don't Count like Dracula
Peep my vernacular, I flip words like a spatula
Spectacular, disrupt your cardiovascular
When it comes to mics, I hold the Excalibur
Rap King Arthur, I slaughter the cannon fodder
You shouldn't even bother; better yet, you should ponder
Twice, I'm too nice with the wordplay that's precise
That I spit on this device, I'm the next Sean Price
Superstar with the monkey bars, make 'em see stars that's orange
Clovers that's green, and also pink hearts
I ain't magically delicious, I'm vicious and ambitious
With the words that's malicious; to emcees, it's pernicious
You're too big for your britches, you're better off washing dishes in the kitchen
You're not worth competition to the words in my dictionary
It's quite scary, you're barely
Able to spit eloquently; I'll burn your knuckles like Terry
Bogard, my fury's fatal 'cause I'm SNK (Still Not Karing)
Like I'm so hateful
Ungrateful to all you fakers faking the real
I'm like Ali the greatest; you're just Ally McBeal
So you better Duck Down when I come with the +Steele+
I'm talking bout mics, no +Tek+s and no caps to peel
'Cause when I shoot, it's only with the master skill
Trying to stay indie with no Mass Appeal

1

Fist of The North Star / With each bar, I scar
And proceed to light the microphone up like cigars
But I ain't talking 'bout Cuban / I'm the rap Cam Newton
When it comes to the rhymes, I'm cockier than Lupin
I thought I told you / I got the skill like Goku
You guys don't want beef; I suggest you try tofu
Oh, you; Think it's a game? / I'll slice you like Kenshin
In this iron mic session, I'm the tutor of this lesson
There is no substitution when it comes to execution
Consider this retribution for hip-hop's devolution
You don't need a resolution like Aaliyah
I suggest you start running like diarrhea
Before I proceed to / Crush your ideas
One rhyme, and it's a wrap like tortillas
My flow's colorful / You're black and white like a zebra
Step to the stage, I'll come armed stronger than Tina
F*** with the linguistic, and you get your chin twisted
Leaking skin liquid for treating hip-hop like you're simplistic
The ability of my hostility
Teaches emcees humility and docility
Not feeling me? You will in the future
When I mute ya, uproot ya / Won't bother to salute ya
In this rap game, it's every man for himself
Hip-hop is a nation, ya'll prefer to call it a commonwealth