Sdcit is imbred,
Kane's balls are blue,
Pwnd is teh awesome,
Because he owns j00.
<3
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Sdcit is imbred,
Kane's balls are blue,
Pwnd is teh awesome,
Because he owns j00.
<3
Sdcit stalks harmony,
Kane snipers the fools,
Pwnd plays the skin flute,
'Cause that's the right thing to do.
I forgot,
That back in the day,
Flute was spelled,
In that particular way.
As your memory is wrong,
You serve anciently dull,
That particular way,
Is Sdcits routine days.
If the edit button,
Never existed,
Your cousin,
Would still have your kid.
A change of subject,
From which was started,
Means it was really your cousin,
Who's now broken hearted.
As if you could,
Make up a joke,
It's still my cousin,
That you wish to grope.
Thinking of wrongs,
denying the rights,
Pwnd admits it was his cousin,
Who he pregnated last night.
It was Kane,
That his daddy never loved,
Now he's teh em0r,
He can't seem to get a hug.
Pwnd's once again wrong,
Covering up his little shame,
Calling me em0r,
Stuck in his own little game.
Thinking he's cool,
And attempting to dis,
You're nothing but a fool;
You can't own this.
Who is the owner,
One for shame,
Pwnd's more than a fool,
Dissing for fame.
All of your joke,
Are totally lame,
Sorry to hear but,
It's your mother to blame.
For she dropped you,
Straight on your head,
Right on the asfault,
Which is actually your bed.
Listen to yourself,
decide who's lame.
Joking left or right,
Feeling fault in shame.
As i recall,
I've been copying you,
So it's really your jokes,
Which need to improve.
It's already been said,
These are the last of your days,
If it wasn't for your mom, the chicken head,
You wouldn't have contraced aids.
A semi line, a pause un-need,
You more than broke the rhyme,
Which in default, discreets need.
Silently traced, Your final reports,
As it was really Pwnd,
Who gasped in distraught.
Think back to your past,
In the hospital room,
Your mum being treated,
And dieing in gloom.
There in which you cry,
For the truth unfolds,
The aid holder is really you,
Medically told.
Look whos to talk,
About breaking trends,
Atleast you can consistantly,
Stay more emo than you've ever been.
Get that hair,
Out of your eyes,
So when you cut,
People can see when you cry.
I'm sorry to also,
Spoil the surprise,
The AIDS was given to me,
Through your sexual demise.
Again the mention of emo brought up,Quote:
Originally Posted by Pwnd
Denying your thoughts is more than stuffed up.
You can't lie to yourself,
It eats you complete alive,
But your emo'ness, Pwnd,
Burries you beyond full entise.
My sexual demise,
Also soon fooled you,
As you ran to the source,
For more seducting obtune.
The suprise was not spoilt,
I've had the tests all along,
As you see, Pwnd.
We've been family for this long.
Thanks for the surprise,
That you've my brother,
But it's weird,
Because we sure as hell,
Don't share the same STD infested mother.
All along i've known,
And you've been hidden by the secrets.
Our mother died when you were young,
So of course you wouldn't share the facts,
That this STD infested mother you speak of,
Was both of ours in tact.
Where you have gotten STD from, I don't know.
But i sure do hold the information,
Of your young child hood molesation,
Which has correctly messed you up,
As Your brain tuma blindens the truth,
That infact, you are the root of the source,
For now i end this,
With a beloved endource.
None of your comebacks,
Are anywhere near fresh,
But it's your mothers backside,
That you own as you tug on her breasts.
I told you once,
And I'll tell you again,
We don't share a mother,
And we're only friends,
But if by Brother,
You meant to be black,
You're white,
And that's a fact.
My comebacks arn't as they seem,
Fish out of a barrel or a suns distant gleem,
Everyone knows, Your sexual orinetations,
With your own mother, As she's stuck on probation.
Forced onto the street,
You fend for her cash,
Hitching every ride you can,
With any single man.
If by brother means black,
And black means white,
These facts you know of,
Are far from right.
You may have told me once,
And then several times again,
but everything you tell me,
is a lie from the trash can.
Eating from scraps,
And collecting your jokes from fortune cookies.
You don't know what's what,
So i suggest a dictionary.
You and your words,
A elaborate disguise,
But won't keep your Dad's cock,
Out from inbetween your thighs.
Sdcit's my bitch,
I'll give you that one,
But I could have sworn,
I hitched with you and you're poorly hung.
Fortune cookies are the best,
They hardly lie,
If what I'm walking is about,
Your hopes and dreams going bye bye.
Give it to me again,
I'll sure dance back,
Because, like I've said,
You have nothing to whack.
(May take some of you slower people to get that one.)
You and your whacking
Have you ever tried sacking?
For if you sack you can be gay
And this is your chance to truly get a lay (:p)
So come on pwnd
and come on kane
Lets get together and not be sane
Im horrible at poetry ;)
Sdcit, you're lame.
You broke the chain,
This was our little game,
And I'd rather stay straight and sane.
Now take your matress,
And your two-eight pound weights,
And pretend you have a male mate,
And pretend you've lost your virginity,
But in reality you've just had to masturbate.