"Battle Rhyme Hookers"
V1
This here is like Rosanne winning the lotto… beating me? Fat chance/
You couldn’t flip shit, with a turd and a spatula doing a handstand/
In a gravity chamber, lacking with the lame attack you’re rapping back with/You’re stepping to Massive flames to find you’re made of Plastic/
You get your Ass whipped, like donkeys to discipline/
You SUCK, you’ve been harassing your mother for sip her tits again/
The think-speed of my mind is blistering/
But, you’re slow in the head, like niggas fishing for sharks in Lake Michigan/
I’ll twist your skin with some verbal conditioning/
Cause me squishing your head is easy like tricking bitches in Switzerland/
You’re wishing when you think you’ve stuck me spitting/
You could put a hole in my paper and you still couldn’t fuck with my writtens/
Nigga, you’re sweet like puppies and kittens/
You milk wackness like Bad Boy uses Biggie tapes to keep Puffy in business/
I shutter your senses, whenever I mutter a sentence/
With more oral reconstruction than could ever come from a dentist/
Even with pretense, you could never prevent this senseless rhyme chemist From injecting kids so their jaws lock with tetanus infections/
Direct the aggression you’re tempted to threaten me with and battle yourself/
Cause expelling my name from your lungs is bad for your health/
I’ve amassed a wealth of trophies from kids who provoked me/
Even Jamaican kids say you’re less of a MON than Poke/
I’m wherever the Gumby, Dammit, chewing impostors/
I’ve even been known to punch lines like Coke sniffing boxers/
I dug nostradamus out of his grave tell me your future/
Said NAS was pissed you stole his style and was coming to shoot ya/
Your crying pleas for help are met with the stone face of Medusa/
You rapping is funny, but I’ll leave you in stitches like sutures/
I’m as equal a threat to producers as I am to Rappers/
Lyrical He-Man, atop of the Universe is where I hold my Masters/
Fuck France, I scream, ‘viva la Tonedeff’!/
Bitch, Your rhyme was out of place just like niggas that’s homeless/
I’ll extort for things that you ain’t own yet/
I’ll stick your head in a freezer for 3 days just to see how cold your toes get/
I bubble with glee when there’s trouble with me/
I got you more weak in the knees than Chris Reeves in SWV/
Pull up a chair as I’m grasping your mandible/
The memory of you existed’s the only thing that’s Intangible/
Tonedeff is actual, living, but really though/
Cause, I’m nastier than 4.000 of them German shit-fetish videos/
More lines than Skinemax got titty-shows/
Just trying to take me down is is like trying to sink a plastic bag of cheerios/
I’m Cereal Killer, stalking Lucky the Leprechaun/
Popped the Porcupine for the Corn he was spitting within his lexicon/
Fucked your girl in the bed you rested on/
I’m gonna get you!!” It’ll be me, the rhythm, and Gloria Estefan/
Emilio ain’t feeling no lyrics you droppin/
You’re getting shot-up like kids in 3D movies in Compton/
Ill psychologically Melt you down like 1 inch candles/
Cause even if you’re a tough guy, you’ll be needing a shrink like Tony Soprano/
Man, oh, man, oh, man… I’m nice/
With volumes of rhymes that knock harder than Jay-Z’s life/
I’ll make your brain freeze twice, like chugging a double slurpee/
In the kiss of the spiderwoman, William couldn’t Hurt me/
Cause you could train harder than subway cars in Dojos/
And I’ll still be makin ya run raps till your heart bursts like your fuckin name was FloJo.