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From UMassWiki

You think I'm a flunk-up

You're gonna make me e-rupt
I'm a failure in your eyes 
You think I can't get by 
You disrespect me and my writing style 
Ich hoffe du bist nicht ein Grammatik Nazi, to no one I say heil!
My future doesn't entail five-paragraph rhymes 
You'll still be teaching Wiki, I'll be makin' dimes 
I'm the future of poker, the five-tool prospect 
I want outta this class and Mass. so I can finally defect 
Not worry about intro and concluding paragraphs
Millions of dollars will be my aftermath
But I'm stuck here analyzing commas 
You want peace? Go see the Dali Llama 
I got hate in my words and passion in my flow 
Respect the writing of "The Whole Damn Show" 
In conclusion 
Your views are a delusion 
Agree I'm the greatest, and let this be a Junior Writing fusion
You're too picky, it's me you should be choosing 
Or you're losing, out on the next Moneymaker
The gambling Undertaker
The Chipmover and shaker 
The Big Pot Raker
Your support can't get any faker 
Just admit to me that you're a Burdamania hater

wunderbar!

Ain't nothing like a throw-down!  :-)

Now, where is your proposal for the next writing assignment? Cuz if you flunk you'll just be junk can't make it in the real world only the dream world make your own space get all up in others' face make your money ain't the only honey craft an image diss the lineage stand up to the power become a pretty flower.

Burda, you tried to battle who? tryna diss my world,

One word will shatter you, you never even kissed a girl, beyond that, that non rap, i'll murder you, Burda I aint even never heard of you, hit you wit a word or two, Chris best, I flip words and get checks, Burda you just a red faced dude wit big breasts, Burda u a clown, this case is locked shut, You tryna battle me, but your glasses is Fogged up, Who want what, you mad cause Steph gave u a bad grade, Or are you mad, cause your just lame with a bad fade, Tell me Burd, you mad at me why? Is it cus you look like Chris from the Family Guy? Chrisismadgoodatwriting 11:57, 17 May 2006 (EDT)

 :Yo son, it's The Man They Call Burd

You're punking me out, so I hurd

You challenging me to rhyme?

Chump like you I'll take anytime

Whip out your cell, dial 1-800-I'ma Punk You Out

Your girl's a whale but I still stick my kiss in her spout (oh snap!)

You're still stuck on ground floor, while I'm touching the sky

I touch millions of hoes, you touch it to those Brokeback guys

Your user name is a little weird

Stay away from my stick, don't even kiss my rear

Enough of this fruity battle

I'll let you get back to your meat market, and I don't mean cattle --The Man They Call Burd 15:36, 25 April 2006 (EDT)

Now Burda you're talkin'

showin' me you got more than mouthin' but that Chris he ain't got more than nuthin' 'cept a cheap trick girly-slam and bunch of nosey flim-flam. Now how come you didn't talk back behind the scenes? Looks like you wearing basic ol' blue jeans no stylin' like someone in the high-rollin' takin' no backtalk coming back so strong when I gonna see you blooming like I know you can? steph (COM) 20:20, 30 March 2006 (EST)

Problem boys makin' noise get off your duff show me you got some stuff steph (COM) 16:25, 30 March 2006 (EST)

I'll bury you

all I need is some SOD, Forget a Professor, you look like Sponge BOB. - CHEA CHEA CHEA HOLLA

Oh no looks like I'm outta my league

You gonna garden? I'm gonna plant some seeds. Sow you with challenge, lyme you with taste, ride your backside 'til you ain't no disgrace. steph (COM) 20:13, 30 March 2006 (EST)

everytime im on the mic

u kno that its classic, your rhymes are played out like dinosaurs, mother f**kin jurassic, fake like plastic, i'm always spittin' truth, i kno u dont wanna battle the lyrical babe ruth, as for you steph i think its time to chill, all these wack-ass assignments are breaking my will, im contemplating the suicide pill, but i havent made my decision, im too busy making these f**king wiki revisions. Pcrowell 15:47, 18 April 2006 (EDT)

Perry you're slidin'

don't know about gliding like a pterydactyl you gotta show some retroactyl get it on, wind up or be gone pick your own topic stretch beyond myopic wacky and tacky, you gotta persist show you got more to resist than a punk-ass writing class. steph (COM) 17:56, 18 April 2006 (EDT)

Chris your rhymes are weak,

burda you a geek, steph you lack a paddle and you’re up shit creek. Cause every time I speak, juke you with a triple deek, I got rhymes for days this is just a sneak peak. Perry was correct, steph you got the disrespect, giving out more work than giraffes got neck. But I wont grab a tech, I’m just sayin what the heck, lyrical style hitting hard just like a car wreck. I hate the wiki, this rap was just a quickie, ya’ll don’t compare to me you’re just cartoons like mickey. now I’m not trying to be icky, or act like a dick-ey , but I wonder why harihar’s keyboard is so sticky? Lawrence hates the wiki

Damn I write good

And can’t nobody freak it like I could Yea ok I got some minor flaws But I sure ain’t breakin no major laws I'm happy Another student never can't be I'm so outstanding Don't care if they can't stand me I'm sittin on top of the world like Brandy

See I look too good for this wiki And I look too good to be writing this You know I look way too good to be clueless I'm conceited I got a reason

See I look too good to be reviewing that And I look too good to be reading that You know I look way too good to be fixing that I'm conceited I got a reason

Now who's that peaking in my wiki Nobody cus I live in a highrise Baby I'm sorry but I'm crazy And all I want you to do is just test me, lets see This kid that I'm waiting on He said he loves when my papers is graded on Wit a tight red B, you ain't quite like me Probably why I'm always getting hated on Remy Ma inspired diss from truestar

Estelle, your rhymes are way out of tune

I'ma enjoy bursting your balloon

You ain't no dime, not even among a dozen

I'd rather hit my autistic third cousin

Your bod ain't even worth a nickel

Your rating on hotornot is as cold as an isicle

Stick to directing your little documentaries

You can't mock me, you know what I meant, the rap Entity--The Man They Call Burd 15:36, 25 April 2006 (EDT)

Yo Burda don't make me lash on you

Ah hell I'm still gonna rash on you I'm not the type but I will talk trash about you Have you in the corner cryin cuz I spit my lyrical stash at you

You should not go into my looks You'se a BIG boi Stay ova there and read ur lil books

A girl like me doesn't have the time to sit here and listen to ur weak azz line: Estelle u not a dime u ain't even a nickel Shut it Burda go ova there and eat ur damn pickle

You greedy mug You won't get a hug U big baby Whinin to Steph about ur paper is quite shady

Burda come at me with some serious talk I never claimed I was a dime Cuz who wants to be a dime when ur pricless Never try to entice this lyrical isis My game is crazy and u should neva ever diss this beautiful black lady

WORD!!!!!!!

Close it Burda

Lawrence you number one?

then son I'm negative eight,

I'm bout to dish out some pain and u gon be gettin a plate?

Burda I spit for the cash, while u just spit till i laugh,

Since you was 6 and 1/2 you had your father's dick in your ass,

You gettin lyrically raped, so your gettin the gelatin,

if Beauty is skin deep, then this kid is a skeleton,

Same kids creep, cant even spit on the lamest beats,

I'm at home with Burda's mother tryna stain her sheets,

You lames get heat, that I spit from the tounge,

I only battle dudes, and Estelle's wishin she's one,

I manhandle a vandal's work, stand slow as my ammo hurts,

and Steph could rele do wit out all them flannel shirts.

Damn I'm nice...

WHAT WHAT SONS. HOLLA AT ME Chrisismadgoodatwriting 00:16, 26 April 2006 (EDT)

Hardee har harihar

Kumar he thinks he’s a rap star.

I buy the bar, he parks my car,

I’m under par, best you’ve seen so far.

The crown I’m takin’,

hits I’m makin’,

cuts some strips off yo back so I can get some bacon.

And why all the hatin’,

from burda on the ladies

go back to masturbatin’

because noone will date thee.

Ya’ll suck just face it,

your rhyme book erase it,

better luck taking my shit just cut and paste it.

Ya’ll should be locked in cages,

after this battle for the ages,

I’d do it myself but I gotta write 25 pages. The Insane Ltrain

SILK's Rant:

Verse 1: Shit is Poison, Get your Toys N. Get up on the floor, You know you figas want more. Score, Yeza! Gonna flow with me, I got more of these hits in store for Thee.

“Yo, Man, Damn, was a long way back”, Tossin’ up Mic-N-Jacks, There are no Crack Backs.

On Top of the World, Kid, once again. We can be your Em’s or your Super Friends.

Don’t tell no Fables, I’m all True Hence, All eyes Importance, It’s me the Romance, I’ma show ya how to Dance Feel the bulge in my Pants, At one chance, You glance, To dance, And prance around

Get it Poppin, You Startin, You Pumpin, I’m Luvin, Just Causin,’ You’re giving that Danga Stare, Got me Buckin’ like a Mare!

Got your Left Breast beading with Sweat, And we haven’t even met yet. (What’s your name?)

Walk around like I’m the King of the A, I got debts to pay. Make you fly right out of your damn shoes, I ain’t gonna lose, Time for you to choose. I’m the Hook Master, I’m Backer, I flow a lot faster, Combine it here, After.

Hailing here from the 4-1-3, Repeat after me. S-I-L-K! One K, Not like Silkk the Shocker. The Best I will be. My heart, it wills me, figa!

Hook: Startin’ here from Wellness, Blazing with the Illness, 2 Souls that were split in 2. We’re the Beat Soldiers, Set here on a War Path, Comin’ for your GF’s, too

Findin’ Love in our Liefs’, Lovin’ all our Peeps, Our Voice Came Through. Drive like a Super-Trucka, Bounce in this Mothafucka, That’s what you came here to...

Verse 2: I’m a Hundred percent Silk, There’s no one of my Ilk. That can stand and test me, Gonna have to ‘rest me. Walkin’ down this Campus, Heading up the Rampus.

I don’t smoke no CAN-NI-BUS, But, you can trust.

That I won’t say shit, I don’t drink Schlitz. Yeah, I don’t smoke or drink, Don’t put me under that damn sink.

One K, not like Silkk the Shocker, I ain’t no Punkrocker, Kick ya like a soccer, balls!

Grows some, U little bumb, Made fun of me in high school, B College, I’ll get my degree.

BA in smart lickin’, Ass-kickin', Wimp lackin’. Belong in front, You’re a big C that rhymes with big fat Runt.

You know you be a wantin’ more, You see what’s in store. The fuse, To lose, So choose, The muse, (It’s the Giga-Moose!), Rolling down my highway, Gonna see things my way, Silk will Outlast ya, Comes da Beat Masta!

Verse 3: All those girls who get Sketched out, Stressed out, Left out, Fuckedy, fuckedy, fucked, forget about. Just remember that I went through that times seven, God, paid my dues to worth me of heaven… Status, (No) time for Hiatus or Hy-Hyenas, They think they know me, got no reason inside, For, I put my shield up to protect me from lies, Such as you’re too nice Must be a true player. Yeah that’s right… I’ll go play my career, You go home to your vibrator. (Reba-Reba-Reba-Reba) Go your bunny, ain’t it Funny, Like it’s Runny, You don’t learn, Queer how the lover’s tables have turned! Top That!!!

Damn slam

ream it out from the inside show your stuff ain't no bluff grades count get it on don't wait to watch the hammar fall. steph (COM) 12:41, 27 April 2006 (EDT)

talkin bout hammers?

I swing mine like Thor,

like a point guard i run the floor,

shoot, pass and score,

i cant be stopped,

ya'll tried to battle but flopped,

i dont gotta watch the hammer fall cuz that shit already dropped,

on the heads of all ya'll aspiring mc's,

go back to bed, all ya'll just tiring me,

got me yawnin, but im always spawnin rhymes like salmon,

bout to blaze a dutch, like bob marley im jammin'

chris, u kno i read your new mission statemnt,

its too fake, i know u lying its blatant,

talking all kinds of shit like u dont wanna be rich,

i bet for a couple dollars ud be suckin my d**k,

yo im out, thats a wrap like christmas gifts,

ya'll are too soft to respond, u candy like licorish,

i guess im ticklish, cuz everybodys rhymes make me laugh,

come at me with ur best, i dont wanna see no rough drafts. ONE, CHEA CHEA, HOLLA AT UR BOY, etc.... Pcrowell 19:20, 27 April 2006 (EDT)

can't keep no secrets here

but I'm plumb tired, just gotta plow through your next proposals unwired. Perry your spelling is as bad as your mind, thank god your height ain't the standard for your behind. steph (COM) 23:46, 29 April 2006 (EDT)

Wats good,any body wanna f*^% wit me

I charge for my rhymes While yall doin ish for free Im sick of all yall wack a$$ flows Rappin bout gats and hoes yall Bitches like Tv... doin s#!% for show Ill spit sum ish that will leave you sick like Isiah Thomas When he watches his knicKs On a scale of 1-10 im like a twenty three And im lettin yall nuccas know yall aint funkin wit me See i dont give a funk what yall got to say Cuz its not like im listenin to your wack ass rhymes anyway Anyway i got one more year till im turnin my tassel Yo Kumar did u and Harold Enjoy that white Castle And o yea if a BURD got suttin to say Im a treat him like a turkey and go huntin today Im a female with a flow as rapid as a river Ill dump yall bodies alive and watch yall shiver Im sick... people say my flow is eratic Im the rap equivalent to Danicka Patrik Im a star in this game And im not talkin bout the sky My Neck is watered up While yall pockets is runnin dry While yall dummies sit here and dance Next week im in first class on my way to France

Victory cuz I'm the champ

yo estelle,

Danicka looks nice in a bakini, but she aint winning no races,

shes makin her real money from the magazine covers she graces,

face it, shes no different than those rap video dimes,

you gotta keep contradictory messages out of ur rhymes. Pcrowell 21:07, 1 May 2006 (EDT)

Now perry is droppin knowledge but so is estelle

but its my rhymes you wanna hear like the end of school bell

today i'm feelin happy so i wont say nothin mean

i'll be happier when steph reduces the pages down to 15

i'm almost done and i can hardly wait

perhaps i'll light up a doobie like that guy from tent state

this class goes by too slow, bout as quick as molasess

and chris you're just a mess like the dude who tried to take my glasses

steph thanks for the overload of candy you deserve a medal

but i've seen this one before i think its called hansel and gretle

Lawrence keeping it Short and sweet like steph's rootbeer barrels

I don't think this battle is worthwhile

haven't laughed yet. not even a smile

most of this class cant read, let alone write

you are not worth my time, forget a fight.

I may not have the skills to rhyme like you

at least I can be proud of my IQ

most of you still can’t use proper grammar

I write in iambic pentameter

this class reminds me mostly of high school

but I must be the biggest f’ing fool

because I have to come to class each day

and listen to the useless crap you say

most of you buffoons belong in cages

I just want to get my twenty pages

I did not want to join this big debate

this whole page is filled with nonsense and hate--Craig 15:47, 3 May 2006 (EDT)

it's ugly that's sure violence simple and pure

you as young as you seem or something new in those genes?
now me I'm optimistic cuz none of you gone ballistic
'cept with words most descriptive and somewhat prescriptive
yellin' cross race disrespect to every face
equal opportunity offending but who's not pretending
bluffing high, puffing low, muffing coins on the backflow
who'z dat thinking they really in the know?
flipped by your needs slamming hard get your feeds
your daring is showin' but what about your caring
lopsided and crooked off your rocker pinko blocker
Now Silk he's a star stole the show that Mercutio
Yeah he's sufficient but can't call him efficient
All movin' and groovin' and coming on strong
showed his stuff (pretty tough) lived large went down hard
Perry he's slanging what happened to his hangin'
out shootin' hoops now instead he's churning logic out his brains
breakin' chains and twistin' laws of physics
Raggin' on Estelle her head high beat the path nigh
to Cannes will she remain aloof when she's atop the roof?
Burda done slipped, went away, ain't been back but
that's no proof he goofed
check his winnings see him grinning
then there's Craig showin' Greek skills old-fashioned poison pill
turn this battle into old school not a chance here's the new fill
classic rhymes got their place somewhere in outer space
yeah it's like high school damn these kids show n telling
on each other and their lives bringing guests what's this
Steve the Div brings bloomin' branches
while Lawrence takes his chances
works me over four leaf clover
then there's Chris thinks he's got nerve
hints his shady innuendo
ah he's just playing nintendo
hey thanks for the meal that was a sweet deal
all ya'all been dozing but now it's time to kneel
at the altar of the grading god.
steph (COM) 00:45, 5 May 2006 (EDT)

When I Talk I Spit And When I Spit I Talk

Had The Game On Lock, Since Planes Hit New York...

Of course, Burda Leave this Text Fam, U Couldnt Be the "Best Man",

Not Even Wit Yer Best Friend's Weddin Band In Yer Left Hand...

Fuck Checks, I Murder Verbally So Dont Bother Wit Bail,

Fuck Text, Only Time Perry Sees Real Bars Is His Father In Jail...

Hit the Throttle And Bail, See Me Holdin The Cold Plastic,

While Lawrence's Mother is Placin Rainbow Flags Over his Closed Casket...

Smokin you Old Bastards, Cus I'm Bored Wit Ya rhymes,

So Fuck It, I'll Slap Silk Till he's Red in the Front,

Quit Battlin me, and Hang Ya self of the Top Bed of Ya Bunk...

This Kid is a Chump, You Know Chris Don't Feel No Pain,

While I'm laughin at Silk, U Lame, That's not Your Real Name,

And Steph's the Grading God? I'm the Lyrical Messiah,

Spit sixteen sixteens till you Feelin It Like Fire,

I'm Feelin the Desire, Slap Craig Till His Wacky~Grin~is~Fadin,

KO's Against me Cant Happen, like Jim Abbot~Finger~Paintin...

I've Had it Wit this Battle Shit, I'm a Change My Flow,

To Make My Dough, So,

When I Write Spits I Read Fast,

So When I Flip This Shit, I Speed Past,

any MC n His Weak Ass, When We Clash,

Be Prepared 2 Let the Heat Blast, Or Be Smashed,

Like A Bitch Wit Sum Cheap Glass,

I Freak Ass In the Club,

Hands High When I Pass wit The Snub,

I Get Trashed off tha Bub, Better Answer Me Cuz,

I'm the OJ of this Rap N my Hand Fit the Glove,

Who Is it That I'm Servin?

Fuck Money, I kill Bills Like Uma Thurman,

Slip Up, U lose ya Nerve And Be Deservin,

Of a Lyrical Brawl, Spit Sick So When U Hear it U Fall,

In fear of it All, I Aint never Fearin a Brawl,

In Fact Im well aware Of all the Feelings Involved,

I Touch a Mic and I Feel it Dissolve,

I Swear I'm the God of any Mic u Touch,

Try 2 Battle Me, U Might be Stupid

Now u Might Be Fucked, Ya Wife Gets Stuck,

Any time Chris Come Round,

U listenin 2 My shit,

tryna front Like I'm Wack Somehow,

Im a Track u Down, fuck the Street, If its On Wax Im Down,

I'll Clap You Clown, Nothin Here But The Gats N Pounds,

Attack Who Now? You gotta Find My Ass,

You in the 745 But the Time Jus Passed,

I'm in a 760 Wit the Rims On It,

Got Your Bitch On my Dick Wit her Chin On it,

I Spin Songs Up Like I'm Bakin a Track,

Thought u Had the crown, Nah son I'm Jus Takin it Back,

Im makin a Stack, And u Aint Fuckin nothin, till u Rapin This Gat.

WHAT KIDS. HOLLA.. MAD BARS, MAD BARS.

Chrisismadgoodatwriting 13:09, 14 May 2006 (EDT)

These lines are gettin vicious, even scary at times,

but chris's words are ficticious, hes got fairy tale rhymes,

the kid is 2nd place, i can tell he's gettin envious,

sweat drippin down his face, chasin me is gettin strenuous,

thought u was rockin the crown, i was lettin you wear it,

now im lockin it down, now your beggin to share it,

your wishin id stop, but i'm a villain like darth veder,

an i had ur girl on top like a florida gator,

my rhymes are magic like johnson, urs arent worthy like james,

Perry Crowell is a f**kin WIKI legend now remmember the name.

Pcrowell 00:52, 16 May 2006 (EDT)

I'll trade you some nursery rhymes for more pages,

Watch as I hit you harder than a Christian martyr armed with cannon fodder..

rape your daughter, desecrate graves and emancipate slaves In my erratic ways..

fighting sporadic waves, found hidden in enigmatic caves..

searching for days, thought washed in greys, fought sloshed n' dazed..

caught lost n' blazed, clapped for plays, trapped in my ways

lifer til my dying day, never decipher what Im trying to say

may be lying but.. hey I ain’t crying

done and gone, came back strong trapped at Heavens gate

in caged in my current state, nothing can change the chaos I create

cover slimy leaks as other grimy freaks support the loss I instate

Ill never suffer a fatal relapse, waiting for the day I collapse..

sounds of hateful claps n' sporadic slaps of the lyrical melody

convicted of an empirical felony, living ought to kill me..

still screaming not guilty.. who have I got to listen to me?

not even the priest that christen me, already missing a plea..

tall deadly wishing to be free, but life kissing me bye

knife decision causes me to cry ...everyday wishing to die..

wondering why... convicted by peers lawyer didn’t drop doubt..

its time to face the facts

after nineteen years and umpteen tears Im locked out..

left to rhyme n lace the tracks..

my case reacts, with no choice but to stay strapped

on waters unmapped, equipped wit twelve ghats..

wrestling on hells mats, rhyming five bars while felonies wont allow me to drive cars

stabbed with live shards, heavenly messenger stressing me for hitting her..

spitting fir, crazed animal in many ways amazed at the cannibal watch the system stir

starring down the barrel of a Smith’n Wesson, enough to keep a Christian guessing..

busy stressing, trying not to loose, lost and confused, don’t excuse, bitches try n burn me

turn n'see, bodies buried what can u learn from me... trapped as I yearn to be free

can you surmise my demise filled with babies cries and mothers lies

to my dying day, living in a lying way ..but trying to play like a demon severs ties..

as my lover dies, my fast introduction, covering my last misfunction

and past dysfunction, head hanging from the gallows still..

head banging hearing hallows shrill, I didn’t come to kill...

but Im here climbing tomorrow’s hill swallowing sorrows pill

coiled streams and spoiled pipe dreams, you ain’t even on my level

empirical kings giving me lyrical wings leaving you to prey to the devil..

lay on the metal, show me on her like Tony Montana, run back hells sins addressed in will

nightmare expressed with a quarter mill, come attack felons Im dressed to kill..

messed with a murderer still like Hannible, Im cannibal cuz I dismember without exclamation

one eyeball ripped from an animal, does Chris remember the amount of explanation?

head heavy in expectation, lost on dead mans logs.. palms sweaty in anticipation

dead n' ready for next proclamation feds n' dogs.. searching for my next complex location..

teenager with no vocation, like no other sensing danger lost in translation

my last exclamation, watch as I stutter wince in anger at the mention stranger..

escape from danger, haunted by memories created by vaunted shy enemies

taunted by these.. bitches continue to finger print, ignorant.. test mad haten’..

face a tad misshapen, hampered by schemes, impaired vision causing a retarded decision

pampered dreams and dampered screams cover a failed incision of a surgeons mission..

keep me wishing for a better future what you do to her

jealous she was cuter, killed by the six shooter, never a bride

in one way all’s lost, rest my pride, it’s a holocaust where death reside

earth left dried, curse manifest inside, demanding an answer

terrorized by this toxic cancer, memorized by an exotic dancer..

erotically prancing, shocking this tried vixen, man wanting to slide his dick in..

listen..to this version of Bonnie and Clyde on this excursion of a rocky ride

mention my cocky side and you already died... yea murder is what I implied

All this writing has got me stressed, depressed, and ready for death. (But an A will change that)haha

starring at the ceiling as my eyes roll back

preparing for the meaning as my cries stole that

not knowing the truth is a catastrophe

no cover in the booth as they blast me

happily enter the land free my soul

my body gone, cant stand, my head feel cold

starring at my life as I take my last breath

no regrets, many a life end up worse than death

as my head rests, I leave in the empty hearse

what’s worse death or life under envies curse

what will I leave nightmares or memories

as I breath, I left with light fears and enemies

Its ten degrees, and Im locked out in the cold

convicted of felonies shocked couldn’t break the mold

stories once told, pleas spoken all my minds left

erase the old, see what emotion lies test

dying like the rest, no great martyr

trying to guess a reason to stay stronger

trapped as my life regress the death of a soldier

in this land of stress I rest as I get older

CWChin 01:02, 23 May 2006 (EDT)