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Rap Battle: Striker vs CowCow Part 9897


Nathanael D. Striker

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The name’s Striker, I’m here to help

Callin’ out bullshit for YCM’s health

I’m the man that brought out the best of Card Contests

You can barely handle this forum’s constant unrest

Ya got called out

Winter: Power Abuse

You get so agitated, people are like

“Calm the funk down, Zeus”

I’m a badass with some ingenuity tossed in

And I’ve been runnin’ this show like the motherfuckin’ Kingpin

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hey it's me enguin

and i'm back again

to tell british soul to put down his pen

 

meter is important

moreso than rhyme

and you funked them both up this time

First off funk yo’ jabroni and the clique you claim

Westside when we ride come equipped with game

You claim to be a player but I funked your wife

We bust on Enguin, now he funked for life

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The name’s Striker, I’m here to help

Callin’ out bullshit for YCM’s health

I’m the man that brought out the best of Card Contests

You can barely handle this forum’s constant unrest

Ya got called out

Winter: Power Abuse

You get so agitated, people are like

“Calm the funk down, Zeus”

I’m a badass with some ingenuity tossed in

And I’ve been runnin’ this show like the motherfuckin’ Kingpin

Master Gig here and honestly I'm sick.

Not of this fever, of your played-out schtick.

Make fun of yourself, yet still demand respect

Whining about everything, just a Loser like Beck.

You say you fixed a section but I'm seeing no votes,

Maybe they're with your imaginary girlfriend's love notes.

Your burns are all the same, and the same is weak,

You gotta run em smooth, like your bald head, sleek.

You make up shitty raps like a small-town thug,

So I'm pulled in on my sick day just to squash a six-ton bug.

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Master Gig here and honestly I'm sick.

Not of this fever, of your played-out schtick.

Make fun of yourself, yet still demand respect

Whining about everything, just a Loser like Beck.

You say you fixed a section but I'm seeing no votes,

Maybe they're with your imaginary girlfriend's love notes.

Your burns are all the same, and the same is weak,

You gotta run em smooth, like your bald head, sleek.

You make up shitty raps like a small-town thug,

So I'm pulled in on my sick day just to squash a six-ton bug.

Sick sheet my brother. Flaming his weight, hair loss, and debilitating loneliness. funking raw.

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Master Gig here and honestly I'm sick.

Not of this fever, of your played-out schtick.

Make fun of yourself, yet still demand respect

Whining about everything, just a Loser like Beck.

You say you fixed a section but I'm seeing no votes,

Maybe they're with your imaginary girlfriend's love notes.

Your burns are all the same, and the same is weak,

You gotta run em smooth, like your bald head, sleek.

You make up shitty raps like a small-town thug,

So I'm pulled in on my sick day just to squash a six-ton bug.

Expectations man, ya gotta live with 'em

Otherwise, ya wouldn't get this gem

Of a rap from yours truly

Dishin' out truth like Judge Judy

 

Take a seat, lemme tell ya a story

Of a man who once tasted glory

From a troubled past, he climbed his way to the top

Showin' he was the best of the crop

 

Then one day, after he thought he made it

His fellow people thought he wasn't fit

So he had to quit, a fall from grace

Leavin' the top with out a trace

 

He was hooked though, hooked to the glory

Hopin' to rewrite his story, his messed up story

Thinkin' that maybe he'd get it right this time

Maybe this time it might be fine

 

So he went along with the punches, turned into a joke

Without ever realizin' his dreams gone up in smoke

Now he's just a shadow, overlooked by all

A constant reminder of his untimely fall

 

So boy, ya think your raps sting?

How can they hurt someone who isn't a thing

But an over used punchline?

Who never had a chance to truly shine

 

Maybe someday I can rewrite my story

But for now, it's just history

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Master Gig here and honestly I'm sick.
Not of this fever, of your played-out schtick.
Make fun of yourself, yet still demand respect
Whining about everything, just a Loser like Beck.
You say you fixed a section but I'm seeing no votes,
Maybe they're with your imaginary girlfriend's love notes.
Your burns are all the same, and the same is weak,
You gotta run em smooth, like your bald head, sleek.
You make up shitty raps like a small-town thug,
So I'm pulled in on my sick day just to squash a six-ton bug.

Second best rap on the forum

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Expectations man, ya gotta live with 'em

Otherwise, ya wouldn't get this gem

Of a rap from yours truly

Dishin' out truth like Judge Judy

 

Take a seat, lemme tell ya a story

Of a man who once tasted glory

From a troubled past, he climbed his way to the top

Showin' he was the best of the crop

 

Then one day, after he thought he made it

His fellow people thought he wasn't fit

So he had to quit, a fall from grace

Leavin' the top with out a trace

 

He was hooked though, hooked to the glory

Hopin' to rewrite his story, his messed up story

Thinkin' that maybe he'd get it right this time

Maybe this time it might be fine

 

So he went along with the punches, turned into a joke

Without ever realizin' his dreams gone up in smoke

Now he's just a shadow, overlooked by all

A constant reminder of his untimely fall

 

So boy, ya think your raps sting?

How can they hurt someone who isn't a thing

But an over used punchline?

Who never had a chance to truly shine

 

Maybe someday I can rewrite my story

But for now, it's just history

Sighs Okay, let's do this.

 

 

Little Boy Blue quit blowin' that horn,

You're givin' headaches to the damn unborn.

I'm getting sick of all this childish tripe,

And watching you still pickin' fights.

 

So let's begin with a cross-examination,

Of all your foolish inclinations.

So let's begin with Subject A:

Your obsession with being passé.

 

So lost in the past, it's way out of style,

Every sadsack post, one more for the pile.

And all this acting out, sheet it's getting old,

You think these call-out posts is you being bold?

 

All your pathetic hollering,

Naught but childish posturing.

Of a poor sad fool longing for the lost,

Failing to realize all cares have been tossed.

 

Poor dear you wanna go back,

To a time of infinite flack?

Oh yes, yesteryear was good to you,

Many days hounded by bugaboos.

 

Now onto Subject B:

Your pretentious false modesty.

Oh so woe as me, funk me so sad,

People don't like me, damn I've had it so bad.

 

Fuckin' pathetic, that's what I see,

A king of his own shitty dynasty.

Oh hail the emperor of self-reflection,

Oh hail the god of perfect introspection.

 

But it's nothing but a party, of your own self-pity,

Expecting sympathy, despite being so shitty.

Can't you see that nobody cares?

And yet you go on with your selfish airs.

 

And now then, Subject C:

Oh wait, what's this I see?

Nothing's there, you're just some two-note joke,

A sad little cancer among us forum folk.

 

So just give up, give in, lie down and shut up,

It's pathetic hearing the bark of a whining pup.

But food for thought brat, here's one thing I know,

Just hang up the sheet, and have a potato.

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This must be what MGK felt after Eminem wreaked him.

IMO, Eminem did far worse to Ja Rule and Benzino back in the early 2000s. Literally ended their careers, especially Benzino. Ja Rule basically dragged Eminem into his beef with 50 Cent when he name dropped Eminem’s daughter. ht of diss tracks.

 

At least MGK still has some relevancy lol.

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