*runs out after vehicle with mic in hand*
*begins next round*
Hey, you nerd with your glass of choccy milk,
Shut your face you derelict, my rhymes are spun from silk.
You accuse me of wanking off to furry porn, yet that is your own ilk.
You say my raps consist of defecation,
Well isn't that news, now take a vacation,
You can withhold your dignity and avoid obliteration.
Old insults, new times, old meters, old rhymes,
Shiny new factions, are just a distraction, from your own infractions, refractions of your own existence. You probably don't want to miss this.
They call us cancer, yet you are the pestilence. Our duels has been marred by your obstinance.
The rise of a new era, a passing of ages.
Foolish Chris, Zag's one of the Sages.