The Rhyme-Off

 

"You lookin’ at me Word Punk?

Know who I am? You are so sunk;

Without a trace, without a paddle,

For I’m the Daddy of the Rhyme

'Numero Uno' for all time.

The Champ. The Ace. The Man who can

Rhyme weasel, diesel and even measly

And still find time to end each line

With a rhyme that’s so sublime

Every listener knows it’s mine

And what is meant and how it sounds is heaven sent.

So bring it on! They’ll be no rest.

I’ll start, to see who's best.

The way it works, and this you know,

Is every other line is yours to rhyme.

Anything goes, except for prose,

‘Cos this is poems man, plain and sweet

Just like chat out on the street.

I chat to you, you chat to me

And after twenty lines we’ll see

Whose got the words, whose got the rhythm

Who can rhyme for poll position.

Let battle start, let drumbeats roll

For now’s the time to sound the toll.

The bells of a sweet victory

Are soon to call out to me."

 

Do your best boy, here it comes

            Rhyming this just makes me numb

You want more, you want bigger?

            Go ahead you Poetry Nigga

Nice one dude, some attitude, I like it

            Spare me your polemic and all that shit

If you think you can rile me up, think on

            It’s easy man your style is wrong

Oh yeah? Well let us see how you e-nun-ci-ate

            All you need is to appre-ci-ate

Right this is it, this is the end

            Or what? You won’t ever be my friend

            As if I care, for me, the only entity

Is what then bruv, a gun a knife?

            No dude, poetry that helps with strife

That helps with what? With strife you say?

            Yeah man, for that’s the way today

The way to where? On your tod?

            Respect, equality and love of God.

 OK man, stop it there. You're v kewel. You're so bad.

            And you ex-champ are more than sad

 

You rhymed me over well and good.

And you know what? I knew I could.

'Cos poetry ain’t just rhymes

It’s more than that, it's changin’ minds.