Diss The Bitch Above You Cypher

Secret Thorough Winds Style with flow

Brotha's like you begin to witness and I’ll make it my business ,
the strangle hold I got you with for you to observe yourself in it ,
I brought you pain when you were in the lane ,
I gave you too many aches ,
You switched over to my side only hopin to gain ,
and you put on your breaks ,
Shot back like a hell hound out for revenge ,
Your doin your work in rap ,
But then again ,
You are only pretendin ,
you come after my cash ,
even when I bought you flows that only masters be spittin ,
Bag you owe me a clash ,
I'll fight you till you forget the fact that I'm winnin ,
Observe death again ,
My lethal axis is spinnin ,
Get impaled purely because your tactics pretentious

I owe you a clash? The problem is, Soar,
You think we're 'Bros' but 'I owe you nothing at all',
80s synthpop reference, back when being gimpy was sick,
I only mentioned it cuz it's really that kinda shit that you'd dig,
Based on that 'Relax' shirt you wear when on a mission for dick,
Its a soft sell cuz it's something you're familiar with,
Soar rolls in a big gang though, Bally's on,
Gay chem sex group, with spandeau ballet on,
Cash for a bash, that's you and your bent friends,
Wanna clash? Find a beat n grab your best pen,
I'll write my bars first then make a track suit, abnormal fashion but that's how ya set trends

your gettin better bag! Or are you showing your face?

I always thought you would blend your talent with your I.Q ,
I was wondering when that would happen ,
I'm proud of you ,
You speak like your about to do me in ,
get louder dude ,
So I can step my game up too ,
You brought your gems to the stage this time ,
I see them glimmering in your past two posts of rhymes ,
I'm gettin that your higher when you “ride” with a conscious ,
But I doubt that you'd be a recipient of that fame like “dupont” is ,
I don’t free all my flows ,
I write significant styles on my foes ,
Your takin it to the head like a cut to ya fro ,
I’ll lead you out of your eye’s vision ,
Have you watchin the times when your raps wasn't hittin ,
Have me wonderin if your good enough to see what is missin ,
All of the people who wouldn't listen ,
You rhymed for the hacks ,
Vietnamese and the Japs ,
You learned that it was all for nothing like bad sex in the sack ,
Until you started gettin clues from me ,
Or whoever showed you how to flow ,
but it still aint nothin you can do to me ,
I talk beautiflly , (beautifully)
Its like I'm a man and your a rat ,
like your who to me

Secret Super UN-naturraal Style with flow

I could be on my guns and I tell you to come over ,
When you arrive I'll be shootin one twenty or some closer number ,
You'll be like "why did you do that?" ,
But walk back over to where you was at first ,
and I start shootin my guns again feeling better or worse ,
When the shells dispurse ,
Bag goin walk out to the streets wit his hand on his purse ,
Get into a fight with Bag and break his skate board ,
Choke him out and get caught by the police ,
bonds man ,
what they take my cake for? ,
Run to get "locked up" like I'm "Akon" , (Akon - I'm locked up... I think thats the song name...lol)
Re-enter the streets and ride up on bag ,
put my breaks on ,
Then I leave the hood without a scratch on me ,
You need to go to the "junk yard" and learn how to "scrap" homie

https://youtu.be/MJztBI3jaz4

Yo,

I'm straight, and you're gay
Still this is rape but I relate it to foreplay
Figuring out more ways to the souffle this goofy
Sorry soar, he ask for what? Then I smack off his kufi
Then a two piece, people wondering if you can breathe
Like I'm NYPD and you was selling loosies
I don't like battling kaid, there's nothing you can do for me
All your rhymes are boring, when I read em in like poor thing
Taking pics looking discrete, mask covering teeth shaped kinda like Shaq's feet
I'm a rap athlete, verbal gymnastics, anything I gurgles fantastic
Did I do that? I just quoted Urkel you fuckin bastard
I grew up a fuckin screw up, to your health I can be fuckin hazardous
I checked in on your mom and dad but by his name i had to put an asterisk
Cuz I hit that shortly after he did
Then after doing a bid I get out and she has a kid
You didn't know but on the low she would tell me what it is
Is it mines or his?
I told her "bitch, I ain't giving you shit" and then I split
I know that sounds fucked up but it is what it is
I'll tell you the same, I ain't giving you shit
Not even my name, only one thing, aim and empty a clip

Dilla's sick, but Ill droppin shitty lyrics with his name,
I hope he's kickin beats in heaven, I know he's spinning in his grave,
Mr "rap athlete", the equivalent of a bobsled without skill,
Your whole career your trajectory's been heading down Ill,
You give me the same inspiration to give it my all,
As being too injured to walk by a kick to the balls,
Being forced to clean a bathroom by kissing the walls and licking the floor of the disability stalls,
The story of your life ends with a significant pause,
Plus your choice of font - noticeably less gripping than Soar's

I’ll stab you in the chest ,
You yell out in distress ,
then I'll take my knife ,
and wipe it across my legs ,
Q the cars that I ride and the choppers that I hold ,
I'm runnin through the streets wit ya lady and her soul ,
I’ll be maybe on my phone ,
After I hang your body from the ceiling of a beauty salon ,
Then steal all your clothes and your Louie Vitton ,
You can't see me in the Gucci I stole from you ,
Dice game ,
Jump you for your money if you some how roll doubles ,
I get dirty in the hood and you watch outta grief ,
But you can't copy like the predator's senses to heat ,
I get from the chop shop like I already been with the beef ,
Take your girl to the Carribean after she put her lips on my briefs ,
Its just an extension to me ,
Cuz I’m puttin metal clips on ya whip ,
tellin me your location while my sub masks are a lift ,
You look like food ,
I might make a pass at ya skin ,
I’m a pretty boy ,
Hate and it could amass in ya sins

Secret Super Hot Style

I'm from a place where the desert rules ,
Get flamed when the sun steams down on you with fumes ,
Your (w)rappin those weights in your brain without muscle ,
you losin a fight to a one hundred and fourty pound dude on his hustle ,
You wanna be a drag? ,
Well I saw a homosexual buyin "merchandise" ,
you can be his "bag" , (nah nah nah I'm just playin...lol)
I'm winnin medals for this ,
with the gold swingin over my chimney ,
shining and lit ,
I'll be destroyin ya larynx with a shoe lace ,
I'm at your ability to rap until you lose faith

You think you'll get a medal for this, sounds very legit,
Why wouldn't a modern icon end up presenting you with
an award for the the relentless effort you give
towards altering fonts and having spelling that's shit?

"Please welcome world famous philanthropist,
Hansjoerg Wyss, who is so fond of Soar Kaid's battle scripts,
he has travelled across the planet with an honorary badge to gift"
(Crowd erupts in a delirious clapping fit)
"Soar Kaid, what can I say, I'm so glad this man exists.
I'll forever be a fan of his.
It has been a pleasure to read your passages about using laces to attack larynxes."
You pathological fantasist

I'm launching a cleaning job on your raps ,
They need disinfected like a soldiers arms in Iraq ,
You look like you need a pain pill perhaps ,
That medicine will get you high to the max ,
You sound like you wanna take me to my death ,
But the only thing you undertaking is a hit of the bless ,
I'll give you a modest price for the chain on your chest ,
Resist telling me no it might lead to my arrest ,
I wanna see what type of "grubs" at the "party's" election ,
You aint eatin even if you swung your weapon at me detested ,
I work the grave yard shift with a light night selection ,
I'll bury your family with you and I won't regret it

I'll beat you at spades, I'll beat you at snap,
I'll beat you acapella, I'll beat you on track,
I'll beat you at using the word beat in a rap,
Said you're gonna bury my family, I already beat you to that,
Your whip - automatic, you'd need a user manual to use the manual that explains how to use a manual,
You don't love your Spanish boyfriend you just use Emanuel,
Things might get serious, not for a while though,
You've got too much regret lockup up inside bro,
Sleepin with the light on, cuz turn it off n your mind goes
Back to when you cheated on your inflatable doll with a lilo,
Bad news - that pain'll stick n last forever,
Ruined your Disney romance with a lilo, now you can't stitch it back together

Yeah, he knows manuals...
De-feet in front of the board... nose-manuals.
He secretly loves Christmas... no one knows man yules.
I’m dumber than you. I play footie with broke ankles rocking brogue sandals in exposed brambles.
Keep repeating that you’d beat him... no samples?
Soar boldly posts in bold... I can’t lie...
The reason I’m using italics... slant rhymes.
Of course I like your style a lot... it’s part mine.
Me and Mandela ain’t equals... a par tied?
Ok, so, you know you’re dope in a rhyme cypher...
But you gotta admit, Soar decorates lines nicer.
My man Soar, he’s like some kind of prime sniper...
Who’s made his gun really pretty with his glitter and highlighters.
But has no clue how to shoot it.
Wait, no... my man Soar, he’s like a lyrical prize fighter.
Because he writes like he’s been punched in the head a lot.

Your a man and I soar for one ,
For the simple fact that angels are impervious to people with guns ,
I'll give it to you virb ,
you are sure persistent ,
but most cats in America got bars that over shadow your existence ,
I got the gold pendant for flow ,
I'm at home ,
watchin you fold and fail to hold down the gravity of what you know ,
Virb this aint just a simple poem ,
I'll make you look bad in hell while your hairs fall out on their own


I’ll put the smarts on in my placement ,
I’m the "savior" ,
and I’m spittin nothin but "knowledge" in ya faces ,
my rhymes make you take time to situate your aces ,
You’ll never penetrate the basics ,
I soar in this game ,
so I KNOW I’m weightless

Me and you make war on the block ,
Now a Cleveland jury drinkin coffee over the talon I shot ,
Speaking of bullets ,
I'm rainin em ,
jets fly over ya house and bomb you with nickle titanium ,
Virb your so out of your league ,
Dolts can't survive without beer ,
you are exactly what I mean ,
Indeed ,
A punk with speed in a Tahoe ,
I'm makin your world a stump to junk up like Super Man Bizarro ,
I expect you to never hit the lotto ,
If you do ,
I'm puttin ink on your mega millions ticket bar code ,
I'd be shocked if you got a gypsy to go half with you on a baby ,
Thats like a sewer being lined with gold ,
or seein you in a Mercedes

Compared to me virb ,
your civilized ,
I'm the man that runs the earth that has a gigantic size ,
I'm growin weed over your entire world ,
feds got suspenseful eyes ,
Renewin the crop till the growth enters under your street signs ,
Who taught the writers how to pen lock? ,
Me ,
The hood Alfred Hitchcock ,
I'll make your car explode on the block that holds rocks ,
and hit your chicks butterfly on a philly alley walk