After tearing down the Redcoats and their leader's grand delusions
Bio's back on the path of his glorious revolution
Next stop Giggs? More like Gaggs, you're choking on my dong
Ask your sister what it's like, son, I can't bother to go on
I'm a lyrical wordsmith, and your crafts can't compare
If we're doing this like Voldemort, then we'll call you the spare
There is magic on my lips, every line an incantation
And in this battle, these lyrics call for your extermination
F*** Avada Kedavra, my rhymes are the killing curse
With that, you're finished before you even spit a single verse
Shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but at your funeral they'll say
That you got your pasty ass kicked in the battle this day
--
I like how each new topic you make reveals such varied facets of your idiocy. - foolmo
[NO BARKLEY NO PEACE]