32 lines max
Topical battle, open subject and no dissing
Official deadline is Tuesday, but you can take as much time as you need.
Let’s go!
Jack Hallows
MC Shtil
32 lines max
Topical battle, open subject and no dissing
Official deadline is Tuesday, but you can take as much time as you need.
Let’s go!
cool, check.
M³
hey Shtil, i should be done with my verse today but i think i may need a line extension lol… the theme i wrote for seems to have carried my verse longer than intended.. i’m not sure how many lines i’m going over but i’m literally at 32 right now after trimming some fat but i know i need a few more bars to complete the story. how would you like to do this? i apologize for any inconvenience.. if you’d like me to just drop it as is i’ll be cool with that too just to keep the line limit respected.
M³
Sup
Brother, of course drop your whole text, it’s much more interesting to read it like it was and not just a part of it.
And yeah, can you do me a favour then? I’ve got some unexpected stuff rushed into me, and I would be really really pleased if I could finish my text until tomorrow. Thank you in advance
(if you don’t mind of course).
And drop your whole fucking bomb here))
haaaa nice! yeah man take your time. i’ll drop as soon as i’m finished.
M³
This year will finish whole in tears and blood.
And we continue to make guns, fun, love.
And what should you do if you’re here but those you love are dead
Or there, in “that one” country, which is next to you? Sand
Flyin’ after the “bang”, tanks leave blanks in places of trees, towns. Sad?
Who the fuck cares? Or if you are, you’d be left in prison for years. Scammed?
No, just your penny enters the pocket of one person
Who spends it on his needs, killing people, while other stupid morons
Watch propaganda on TV while I watch a film on CD:
Mines blowin’, houses bornin’ like a sun, turning
Red slowly like fury of the soldiers, talkin’
‘Bout how they hate this war of minds above,
“Fuck this war, we’re made for them to die, enough!”
People = shit, and that’s not a Slipknot’s song.
The governments’ve been counting this as a law from a long time ago.
You think that having humanity is only reliable for Sardon?
He has never watched shit. I’ve done.
War is a canvas, painted in red,
While the puppeteers dance, we’re left for dead.
Humanity’s pulse in a battle for peace,
But the silence grows louder, begging for release.
i run from house to house, tryna rout who seeks to hunt me
no idea what’s going on but i feel tired, weak & hungry
the wounds on my back leak and speak to deeper trauma still
i’m tryna build the courage to see what mangled mess my arm reveals
the bandages stick, no time to nurse myself, just stop the bleeding
everywhere i turn go i hear the gurgle of their noxious wheezing
constant screaming, coming from all corners of the block i’m fleeing
stop, i’m freezing every few paces so not to hock while breathing
it’s got me thinking “is this what happens to folks for not believing?”
no, that’s not the reason; see, i grew up with the proper teachings
argh! i’ve got to keep it together. wandering thoughts make me complacent
i tripped over a body, no need to wonder where it’s face went
i taste it. the stench of death permeates the air
it’s not coming from this corpse, “too fresh” i worry in despair
best hurry up the stairs before what’s coming finds its prize in me
i hide in peek, silently tryna see what lurks behind the tree
but idly my gaze drifts toward the carcasses that line the street
surprisingly, something on the right blindsides me violently
i try to free myself but it still latches on defiantly
fiery pain blindingly rises like a geysers heat
it’s biting me. wait, it’s not a thing, this is a child, b!!
i flail and fling them off but feel their teeth rip off inside of me
i’m rising, weak. the voice inside my head chiding me, guiding me
to grab the closest thing i can. brain reminding me “fight or flee” (24)
decidedly, my reply is to book it like a diary
i pry the creaky door but it won’t open very wide, i see
on the other side is 3 more beings that turn, eyeing me
faces under a veil of pale white like a bride to be
the driest heave escapes me. Most High please don’t let me die this eve
provide a means of safety & i swear a life of piety
sobriety, propriety… whatever is required, G
just fly to me & save me from the night where all the mindless feed
a silent breeze.. i search around to find the slightest sign i’m free
panic climbing, i cry & plea. why is He denying me?
spinelessly, i curl into a ball, ready to finally
say final goodbyes - while flashing by is the life of me
so much for all my dreams of going down in notoriety
it all happened so quick no one granted any time to grieve
they’re dining me. a cacophonous chorus that’d spurn Calliope
frenzied as dialing into anxiety to the 9th degree
a sight to see, with all the fight in me i curse the world spitefully
i hear a jarring buzz on the side of me. i blink, slightly tweaked
i see the face of my wifey she’s pushing lightly on my thigh & knee
“you’re having a frightening dream, Pa. Just try to breathe.” i sigh, at ease.
her smile is nice to see. i smell the rice & beans. alarm, i’m finally silencing
i’m quite, relieved. ‘twas all inside my head like psychiatry
mid stride to pee, i eye the tv guy looking tiredly, turn up the television so the guy can speak..
to my nigh belief, he describes something spreading mysteriously, virally… a tide of grief as people try to flee the dead that rise to eat…
M³
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