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Rhyming's kinda become addictive, but anyways...

You're like Icarus and I'm the sun,
practically untouchable
try to s**t on this and I'll crush yah fool (crush-ah-ful)
i'm royal, yah flushable
and i won't hesitate to bust yah son
always pack a tool, always ready to get it done

yah gettin' stuck-up like yah mah's portrait on the wall
if yah resist yeh gettin' dumped on the lawn
i don't give a f**k no matter, whereva they from
an' if they wanna touch, i pack a Calico son
i'm known to cause the sorta pain codeine can't heal
i ain't afraid to get charged if you come'ta test mah real
and just in case we face to face i always strap cold steel
I won't hesitate to leave yah dead meat, but not enough fo'a meal
omereta, it's Italian fo' yah best not squeel
Louis Cyphre imma modern day Alberto Anesthsia, I ain't got no feels
my heart's a freezah - got'a thousand-yard stare I can't conceal
an' if you think I'm a fraud I dare yah to step up, come an' test me god

i suppose it's it's yet to be determined
if i'm a lyrical wordsmith
but i don't get discouraged
when my rhymes are s**t i just flush 'em down the toilet (tur-let)
i mean toilet *flush* anyways, i gotta headrush
and a slight blush I know a girl from Punjab,
right near the home of kush, I'm hung up, got quite a crush
you should see her, she's a fine dime stunner
when she walks in the room she makes it hot like summer
i sound like a swine, but she gives wood like lumber
i'd like to get her alone and lay more pipe than a plumber
i'd even get a vasectomy so i don't need a rubber
make her scream "ooh yuneek!"
who? - that's me
and see what kinda freak between the sheets she'd be
it's not hyperbole, heaven sent her, you'd agree
but i know she'd pro'lly never wanna be with a creep like me

the kid thought he was MVP of the drug profit game
until he caught slugs, the sparks light up the dark hear the shots exchanged
kid, we ain't in the same league even if it's the same game
now he's face down on the rug, leavin' the carpet stained

i'm working away on more bars than a prison
an' most mah life was defined by indecision
ever since a child believed i was a super villain
my daydreams still have all sorts of delusions in them
see myself hold the mic with stupid skill and
start to spit with true precision
but most the time i know i'm off the rhythm
babbling about a life i'm not really livin'

the slug busta, quick to bumrush yah, lick shots and dust yah
leaking and gushing from gaping wounds blood is rushing
out on the floor, beef with me is war, wake up with the Calico at yah dome
i don't capitulate, wait for you to come home late and leave the carpet stained
it won't be mutual, but be assured i'm about to annihilate

come around tryna snatch mine?
that's practically equivalent to suicide
it's not wise to antagonize this feral cat
the final grains fall through yah hourglass
you might be the type to brag that he hold guns
when i paced up i bet you wish you had one
sprayin' at your face, i'll
- leave you laced up, just like a baseball
face unrecognizable from the pain i'm inflicting
so take heed of the warning i speak in this composition
when it comes to violence my morals are unconflicted
uninhibited, unrestricted yah f****n' cuck - it's an outcome you shoulda predicted

the scene turns uglier than blind dates
but too late, ya done for - checkmate
gotcha surrounded like parenthesis
so spare me your pathetic, relentless pleas
and try to die with some f****n' dignity
frown now at the loud sound of the pound
as i bust off rounds like blaow blaow
just like Havoc taught me, only in gats I trust
i won't hesitate to put you face down in the dust
even if I don't wanna I will if I must

i'm steppin' with animosity
but if anyone wants to cross me, go ahead accost me
i'm sprayin' high velocity rounds and causing atrocities
in towns, Type 81 hittin' with steel cores that ignore
your flak vest, penetrate yah chest and leave you a mess
i'm wettin' like a baptism, i'm blessin'
have gods undressin', passin' wallets, shoes, chains and jackets
who knew that That Awkward Kid could keep skatin' after attackin'
i ain't doin' a bid
this innocent face is false advertising, i pack all sorta surprises
i'm shittin' on yah like a john, gotta flush and put down the lid

and just another thing i could say - f**k you Kevin, i'm not your shit-taker
yah should be you dreadin', whodah known Mr. Potatohead was a risk-taker;
yah wanna squabble son? it's on - i got a death squad behind me like a dictator
i'm like a Lannister - my debts be repaid soon'r later
yah better get insurance 'fore you test mah real
cuz e'rywhere i go I pack cold steel
remember to heed the message i sent yah
that beef bred in February led to slaughter in autumn
i warned yah son, if you strode up i'm offin' yah
he barely open his mouth an' i was already on top of 'em
yah shoulda kept your head down and kept walkin' son
cuz imma bootfuck your ass so hard you gon' taste mah moccossins
Awh does lil RBF Potatohead hate his life at Honda?
Well, we can throwdown if you really wanna
Just say the words and I'll run-up on yah.
And curbstomp your ass from here to Toronto.

i used to know a man with a glass jaw
even before he exchanged a
failed career as a prize fighter
after being banned as an ear-biter
abandoned his reservations and spite
towards the infamous life of a paid killah
Now he's a licenced and certified dome-ringer
a pro-gun-slinger; so cold - he never hesitates up'on ta trigger (up-own-ta)
a genuinely adamantine god
the ice-cold facade - it ain't no fraud
soon as they drop he's standing o'r-top
and busting off coup d'graces like busting his nuts (naudz)

got no time for chicks, crazy tricks only bring drama
i'm wild - i walk in the room an' drinks automatically turn stronger
when i rage i force my blades through the chinks in yah armour
i'm imperceivable, sneak up on you like a stealth bomber
wanna go to war? i bring more heat than a Finnish sauna
yah left spent and burnt, just ash from marijuana
leave yah bloodied-up and beatdown;
yah get murk'd if i see you again, I swear on my honour

when i'm on the mic i speak of things that leave yah brain scarred
and babble to myself like a f*****g retard
staggering from Lucky, I hope I don't shart
even with face-tats i pro'lly wouldn't look hard
i'm mostly known to stalk parts,
where cold victims are found without they hearts,
livers, heads, genitals or brains,
hopefully without ice crystals in the remains
'yuneek it seems you're a little anti-social'
well i got an ice cream truck for cadaver disposal
i heard yah plan, now here's my proposal
if yah don't pass the proceeds yah get holed up like the ozone

i'm on a higher level
collectin' plaques like Ewan McGreggor
willin' to rock the mic in all sorts of weather
whether in February all the way to November
sometimes I like to rock the Beastie flows
other times i try to spit like Prodigy or Necro
i'm only getting started, but could you beat me? no
time to memorize all the rhymes i wrote

got 30 pounds of blow, if dealin's a game than imma win it
my business is moving keys like Franz Liszt but I'm not a pianist
you ain't a champ, you're barely an amateur kid
and i s**t on weak emcees with s**t rhymes if i ain't feelin' it
i don't break bread, if there's beef you know i ain't healin' it
treat you with contempt and i'm not about to be concealin' it
cash rules, my record remains the cleanest (clee-an-ist)
if it don't take, I light 'em up just like a pheonix (fee-yon-ix)

I got way more, I think I've got enough material for a mixtape.

Last edited by funeralxempire on 09 Dec 2018, 5:11 pm, edited 1 time in total.

It reads like one of Ahogday’s posts.

The italics is just to break things up, since it's not songs, just random verses. Does he rhyme?
I got loads of polysyllabic internal rhymes going on.

Meter and rhyme — in the traditional sense — are important. Something that reads like a rapper’s screed has no appeal for me at all.

You say that as though skilled emcees don't pay attention to meter and rhyme, in addition to story-telling, wordplay, set-ups and punchlines, etc.

That Devil Yuneek, the name's ironic
most of the time i'm pretty generic
your least favourite emcee, like Trump's kids Eric
and Tiffany, but more specifically Farrakhan did say
because of my blue eyes and blond hair
that I'm the spawn of a mad scientist named Yakub
if that's my creator he must be a righteous dude



i'm about to get wild like a circus ape
you see these feces? i'm smearin' 'em
and i got a whole list of complaints
so get a pen for notes, you best be hearin' 'em
and you, keep your tongue offa my taint
you should know that you're nearin' 'im


i got more bars than sing-sing
when i write hyphy, sippin' on ginseng
and ephedrine, caffeine, sometimes I add
dextromethorphan, diphenhydramine, ecstacy, diacetylmorphine
marijuana, etc; gettin' more f****d up is even bettah
with such a variety of chemicals inside of me, it's almost as though I'm a pharmacy
e'rynight i pray for an overdose, and no, it won't bring harm to me
i hope that it's fatal, or at least leaves me comatose

when I was 21 i met a girl from the underdark
and ida done anything to make her mine and take her heart
buy her booze, steal expensive wonderbra lingerie
even take her out - King's Buffet
finally she tol' me, this has to stop, be on your way
it's not cuz you're a human and i'm a drow
it's because i don't f*****g exist and you should have noticed by now
it can't possibly work, just really, how?

i never leave home without packin' a weapon
in case any shit-talkers wanna come steppin'
run they mouths, disrespectin'
i'm comin', wettin'
crept-in, spray shots now i'm jettin'
hop-in the Cressidia, time to get outta here
if they try comin' threatenin'
you know that i'm wettin' 'em
never shoulda gotten this homicidal
degenerate after 'em

wanna confrontation you better have a last will and testament
wanna play soldier boy you better bring yah whole f*****g regiment
if you ain't duckin' quick, I'm leavin' yah bleedin' outside the tenements
and if you hole up, the whole building I'm burning it
feel my contempt, don't act like you ain't earnin' it
best get swazye kid, you don't know who yah f****n' wit'

Apparently I had the man's name wrong...

yah gettin' stuck-up like yah mah's portrait on the wall
if yah resist yeh gettin' dumped on the lawn
i don't give a f**k no matter, whereva they from
an' if they wanna touch, i pack a Calico son
i'm known to cause the sorta pain codeine can't heal
i ain't afraid to get charged if you come'ta test mah real
and just in case we face to face i always strap cold steel
I won't hesitate to leave yah dead meat, but not enough fo'a meal
omereta, it's Italian fo' yah best not squeel
Louis Cyphre imma modern day Umberto Anastasio, I ain't got no feels
my work leads to burials - gotta thousand-yard stare I can't conceal
an' if you think I'm a fraud I dare yah to step up, come an' test me god

Edit: Got this one used in a verse now:

i'll open up your heart, not just the chakra
my bren-10 mm (millah-meetah? or em-em?) spits shots that will tear you apart

sent my resumé and headshot, got hired by chippendales
showed up, got fired on the first shift
cuz I'm fat, got mantits and blubber like a narwhal;
came back, hit the manager's office with a molotov cocktail

Old hockey fans will get this one:

Louis Cyphre aka Richard Riot; (Ree-chard)
I'm relentless, unprecedented,
dark-tinted and smoke-scented
like '55 when Richard made 'em play The Platters' Smoke Gets In Your Eye



Edit: This might actually work...

Louis:

Louis Cyphre aka Richard Riot; I'm relentless, unprecedented;
dark-tinted and smoke-scented, like '55 when Richard made 'em play Smoke Gets In Your Eye
i ain't merciful, instead i'll murk-yah-fool; the fire i spit, sick s**t it's hurtful
rival emcees act tough, but won't walk, it's all talkie
i chew through whole crews like they packs of Pocky
if you came to bring beef don't forget the onions, peppers and cheddah
or i'll bust out yah teeth, tear out your lungs, assorted viscera, etc.
i'll open up your heart, not just the chakra
my bren-10 mm (millah-meetah? or em-em?) spits shots that will tear you apart; i'll drop yah

Frank:

you can call me Francisco Umberto Anastasio
I'm not an undertaker but I specialize in arranging burials
watch where you step mayne or i'm wettin' yah
you ain't Robert Paulson, you ain't even deserve a name at all
when i stroll out i pack a sawed-off with buck-and-ball
an' if you see it just know ya'bou'da ca'chid'all (you're about to catch it all)
my adversaries turn crown evidence, they shook, I'm scare'n'em
cuz i'm known for sprayin' entire families, even the children and wives, I ain't sparin'em
i cause i chalk shortages when i go to war; the corpse-stench is evidentary,
your demise, i predict eventually;
produce corpses like an abattoir; i'm known to fill entire cemeteries
i'm deadly like gamma rays; crush domes like a hammer
and if you want to live you pro'lly shouldn't even mention me

Louis:
did say I've got limited executive function?

Frank:
I've noticed, your daydreams intrude;
and you should learn how to mind yah business dude;
If I'm rap Walter Kovaks, than you're rap Walter Mitty
your rhymes are weak and your delivery is shitty
and most of the time you really ain't witty
just stringing together child disphemisms
and struggling to even pretend there's a rhythm
For that matter, you should remember
you ain' really gangsta, or even in the vicinity
and I only hang out with you because I got pity


Louis:

when I was young bullies always wanted to fight me
even my fourth grade teacher joined in just to spite me
cuz I was hyphy like a berserker (buh-zer-kah) viking
doctors say that something's wrong with my psyche
they pro'ly right, even my imaginary (emadjinaeh) friends, they don't like me


i don't tell stories, i only write non-fiction
you're terrified, i can see it in your eyes,
I can hear your heartbeat if I listen
i bet you wish you would have heeded my previous compositions
your attitude could use a little percussive maintenance
and i'm lookin' to do some fixin'
i'll f**k you up like giftwrap
by a toddler, on Chrismas
i hear your throat emit a little whimper
your days are gettin' short just like the middle of winter

Here's some more bars for y'all:

i hear a couple dozen no-skill wannabe emcees talkin', sayin' man what he know?
didn't know Louis Cyphre could eat 'em up like escargot
mumblers and babblers can't match my four-dimensional flow
say they hate me but then they want to get in backstage at my show

i'm on a higher level
collectin' plaques like Ewan McGreggor
willin' to rock the mic in all sorts of weather
whether in January all the way to December
sometimes I like to rock the Beastie flows
other times i try to spit like Prodigy or Necro
i'm only getting started, but could you beat me? no
time to memorize all the rhymes i wrote

they say i can't emcee, i don't know the lingo
wha'dyah know about my stylo, on the mic i sear 'em
i'll leave you to look up the terms up on urban dictionary
i spit evil vile, soon as they hear me, they fear me

sit down, listen when i'm teachin' a lesson - 'fore I
- reconfigure your face; I'm an amateur plastic surgeon
i practice the pain that you're deservin'
if you scratch my whip while i'm k'd out and swervin'

my first tape is like my frying pan; it's entirely filled-up with bangers
and you can't even deny that this badman brings entertainment
when i visit yah home you left wonderin' 'where did mah chain went'
and if you see my 8-1 then yah know im'bout'ta'be sprayin' it

you know you wanna listen, even if you be hatin' it
because i'm just that inventive when i'm creatin' it
years from now kids still will be imitatin' it
even when i'm dead they'll still be replayin' it

as a child was known for hustlin' old men at chessboards
to provide cash to afford and go score more pokemon cards

now I'm a fuck-up and fucked-up,
a psychonaut - lost count of the pills I've popped
i'm on the top; got bigger balls than Bon Scott

when i'm on the mic i speak of things that leave yah brain scarred
and babble to myself like a f*****g retard
staggering from Lucky, I hope I don't shart
even with face-tats i pro'lly wouldn't look hard
i'm mostly known to stalk parts,
where cold victims are found without they hearts,
livers, heads, genitals or brains,
hopefully without ice crystals in the remains
'yuneek it seems you're a little anti-social'
well i got an ice cream truck for cadaver disposal
i heard yah plan, now here's my proposal
if yah don't pass the proceeds yah get holed up like the ozone

i'm a f****n' wizard, like abra-cadabra; rock rings on grizzled fing's
ain't got a tower; I live in a dilapidated Windibago
I'm a neo-luddite; ain't got a cell phone or digital cable
ever since the Abenaki tangled with the Windigo
ever before LL rocked his first Kangol
trust me, you should believe me just cuz I say so

i'm kickin' teeth like toecaps
you know what, f**k all that dough-rap
in primetime i bust a flow that,
ain't politically correct, instead it's full of witty comments,
objective content, with the illest beats, I'm on that
rhymes like Killah Priest, i maintain the calmness
yah harmless, now watch how I bomb this

this might be my first but a decade from now it had best be my worst
i gotta sharpen skills like chainsaw blades, Skhils or Huskavara
make 'em sharper than a katana, relaxin', rnr'in'
puff-puff-passin' the marijuana
my flow infects yah like ebola
rhymes like dice i'm rollin'
listen to the masters, wonder if I'm bitin'
enough rhymes to fill entire bags of holdin'
get up on the mic, try to freestyle - yet again i'm chokin'
i'm a mental case who looks homeless, face wrapped up in das pantyhosen
even if i start throw'n up i ain't start to get sober'n up
gibberish flow'nin', more than the Henny in mah cup;
ah-shit - i think i just cut myself with my own sword again
b***h, pass the rings and start to disrobe again
just because i don't represent the bling don't mean I don't covet
more than Lyle Lovett when he joined Heaven's Gate
hopin' to catch a flight on Hailey's Comet

i giv'm shell-shock from the size of shells
when i bust off with gunshots - yah get claptized and blessed; brapbrapbrap,
i leave three in yah chest, even in death, one last disrespect;
Motherf***er, you got blood on mah sweats
Louis Cyphre, rap Loki, I'm a trickster, discreet
i look low-key, but my mental is lethal
and Sage if I see you in the street i'll -
start to spray, you're already dead
mightaswell dig yahself a shallow grave
for eternity, your remnants remain entombed,
enshrouded with the stench of decay only once you've
vanished without a trace will my rage finally abate
i'm not a saint, morally no one's lesser
might sleep on but never forget a vendetta
see me better duck down or yah done fella
cuz if again we met i won't hesitate to start hittin' and wet yah

Also, I need to come up with something to go with this beat.

viewtopic.php?t=294303

loose lips might sink ships , still can improvise your own kind of truth
graduated, don't even need pen or paper when i'm in the booth
always rude like flashbacks of working at McDonalds as a teen with a nasty attitude
interrupt when you stutter on the mic and start spittin' like it was in the food
Louis Cyphre, better know that I'm on top, like bracket racing a Canso with an LS-swap
feel the impact when my next mixtape drops, even though i'm kinda shy and I don't mind if it flops
and that i remain so underground i only get played insid'a'caskets
like most my idols, when I finally discovered they hit me like avalanches
my mental is awkward, but i swear I'm not slow - just not very swift
and most the time i doubt that i really even exist
when i hold the mic i'm convinced i'm a lyrical mad scientist
announcing discoveries of rhymes no one ever dreamt exist
but in the back of my mind, this rhyming game i know i ought to give it up
but if you heard me flowin' on the mic you'd swear i sped it up,
because i practised it, sweated it, 'came obsessed wit' it
døh-nah-nøh-na-nøh-da-nøh-nøh-nøh-nøh that's the Inspectah Gadget theme inn'it?
Bet that was unexpected, well really, it was wasn't it?
don't doubt that so far my lyrical engine I've really just been luggin' it
i got more bars than witches in a dozen covens, any beat i can drop a couple dozen on it
that's twenty bars and all you'll get for free, this post and thread i'm ou'dav'it

Not bad at all. I like it.

Thank you.