ojoawo: Download my track here, reviews needed http://tindeck.com/listen/hwjx

Rap maestro: No offence Ojo, i haven't done any b4 o but i just tot dat one doesn't have dat professional touch.. The rhymes was too simple dat a baby could do dat.. that was gud doh

sleakid: lolz

ojoawo:

Nah, thanks for that
Its just that its was d first track I recorded for my mixtape but it was dropped from the final shortlist. so I needed to get feedback on it.
And P.S it isn't intended as a straightup hiphop track, so 4give the simplicity. Fanks anyways

ojoawo:

??

dj5naira: Some peeps are spittin' bull/ dippin' hot shit and feelin' cool/ but I dare to be different . . . like Hitler in British School/
And when it comes to dishin' tasty beef . . . im finger licking good!/

I retire his fallen wit/ cuz he couldn't withstand my balling tricks/ he asked for a fat beef but I handed him a Raw-thin meat/
. . . im noble and a class guy . . .
. . . but my masqueradeus Good-Diss make him & his other petty traders 'flea market' . . . like Gang of Running Thieves!/

I'll wring the neck/ of these gays . . . the same way I squeeze T-Shirt/ thats really wet/
Caught the siamese phags under the mattress when I raised my middle finger . . . and quickly flipped the bird!/

I carry a gun . . bullet-loaded . with its shape like quarter to 4!/ so inside this Pot of Gold, you hangin' Spies are destined to fall/
cuz i'd Fur Strait your flight effort . . . like a wingless fly on the wall/

He'll need to Reset his tactics cuz 'tis Gameover for this tout/ like Phake Batteries . . . Never Could Last a single round in this bout/
My blows convulsed and turned him epileptic . . . leavin' the diseased cow to foam at the mouth!/

Im known for my deadly smooches/ and steady bruises/
Call me a psycho-lovemaker . . . cuz my Nigerian fist would be the only thing French Kissin' your wetty lips!/

Tell the fool talking/ fly not your shirt . fasten your loosed button/ cuz your cheap . . . like the price of 2 undies/ so quit the rude bluffing/
Ya hooks faulty . your whole verses Crescent . . . but mine, a Full Monty/

Drop Keri's chorus . . . i'd take you unaware in the ring even with your hands set/ Prime Minister of punches . . . 1 left hook . could Knock You Down dead like Thatcher Margaret/
CEO of wordies . . . others withdraw ASAP/ and if he claims 'Jesus of rap' / i'd have him crucified . cos im that Pun~tius ''Pilate'' / like pronouncin' PIRATE with igbo accent!!/

CAPO-FIRESTONE:
smh dis mikuz 2 dy rant self.
Smh 4 u

CAPO-FIRESTONE:
smh dis mikuz 2 dy rant self.
Smh 4 u

Ema prince: These face book rappers are so wack from what I can see..I even wonder why mikuz waste his time there.

well....I hope and I seriously hope there won't be any biting and recycling of other peoples lines or even ur old lines in this battle.

Ibime: Chill out ninjas. Both verses are in. Mikuz open the thread for me please.

mikuz: Less than 15 minutes to deadline and Illscripts is no where to be found. I've always known him to be a netcee who's afraid of facing my fire!!

lil jboy: he just pinned you, damn see bars.

mikuz:


Ibime don use me do caricature . . . No wahala.

killsmith: u still skul at uniport?....how bout we meet for a physical barru?....

sleakid: u try.
God bless yah mum

ThunderStorm:
Really nice show off Dj5naira..

nosa gold: /When I spit you should be calling the feds/ nosa's "like a tailor sewing"... I'm "running this thread"/

They applaud when I spit my rhymes/Niggas claim they got flows I'll be the river nile/ cause like Adigun's mother... I "deliver 9ice"/

I'm so raw with puns/ that's y they start to run/ like an "artisan with arms"... The way i "draw my guns"

For y'all niggas that doubt me/ I'm undefeated proudly/ b.itch I ain't diabetic... So there's nothing sweet about me/

I put dudes in detention/ your name shouldn't be mentioned/ cause I can f.uck up 3 Gs like a poor internet connection/

B.itches love me/ 'cause of the way I drop s.hit/ nosa's like a "faulty DVD"..."no one can stop me"/

Your rap look's f.ucked/ Crizzy against me? You better pack Good luck/ you could be compared to a "vacuum cleaner" cause its a fact "you suck"/


This boy's so fly// I'm ill nigga that's no lie/You like "expired yeast"... "Your dough don't rise"/

I greet niggas with sick s.hit/ bring wreck to a weak b.itch/ I got no bladder... you can never get me pissed/

Nosa

streetwize:
Severe your cerebra and leave your membranes engraved in the sands/
of greco-macedanian lands/ What you hear is illegal/
My Bottom brushes the head of an eagle/
As I invent a complex genre/
that contorts rap into the multiplexus of a convex corner/
Annexated in a lawless order/
Drowned in the daedalien matrix of a flawless blunder/
Ur paralyzed by aweless wonder/
They say ur number one. . . I reply then Im a complex number
U know Im a hazardous bloke/
Done balld more than a shaolin monk ravaged with a cancerous growth/
Ill definitely see heaven/
But ill drop dead on the 25th hour, 29 february 2011

Verse 2
I flow faster than ur thoughts can go
So what u think u hear now. . I already said it eons ago/
with the wisdom of a sophos sage/
spitting faster than the speed of light, nigga so my words dont age/
dumb old slaves/ I bend time and control space/
my swords'll blaze/ and leave you lying helpless/
squinting like an asian astigmatic/
In a scene ten times more graphic than two dimensional cartesian mathematics/
what battle?/ don't u covet your life?/
thats as silly as bathing outside in the winter with a bucket of Ice/
or leaving a virgin with a forest of guys/
or tightroping Unclad on cotton above a torrent of spikes/
or trying to know the position of a positron/ with no vision/ so listen/
my tongues so hot my words vaporize to a gas atomic layer/
so u can hear this only bcuz i record in a monoplace hyperbaric chamber
Bleep stones. . . my words are engraved in iron/
As the sun starts to fall, while the rain is shining/
Niggas weepin like the slaves of zion/
As 2013 becomes 1 in the face of mayans/
Yo, . . u cant phathom the rhyme/
my bars are intricately interwoven by quantum design/
till ur left in hypotensional state/
slice u up till ur body fits in 2 dimensional space/
Ull attend ur own damn funeral/
Ur not an MC, they just wrote a thousand (and hundred) in roman numerals/
I transcribe this in heiroglyphics/ rhymes calibrated with techno- physics/
I spare no lyrics/
Like archeologists on the relics of Phero's egypt/
Bless those heathens/ Bleep ur girl and get those digits/
Penetrate till her world rocks in tune
Now she's wetter than a necrophilic bisexual in an autopsy room. .

Luciferous logolepsy/
No Emcee ever navigates through music with the tetrachords of ptolemy/
Supposedly, Ideogeny's potency's obscured from contemporary neophytic poetry/
I solemnly but irrevocably declare suppositions/
of quantum dynamic collisions/
against my volition/ but resulting from the cynic position/
of a luthiferous lyrical vision/
inundate u with variant concepts/
giv orders to my alien subjects of my plans to invade the world with aerial objects/
Im here. . but u wont see me even if u used photo-keplerian optics/
my genesis was musical/
Used her ovaries as a mic and my mothers uterus as a studio/
Its easy, . . find a better verse/
And ill find u a Eulabia Indica at the substratum of the mariana trench!!!!!