1,927,698 Pages

​Syntax and Semantics

This song is by MC Plus+ and appears on the album Chip Hop (2006).

(Round 1... Fight!)

Max Flow, what you know about spittin' rhymes?

I know yours will never be as verbose as mine

Is that right?

That's right, I've got terabytes of data
More lyrics than you were made of

Is that a fact?

That's a fact
In fact, I've logged all of your rhymes
Ratio equals epsilon compared to mine
Plus, what you know about rockin' the mike?

Max Flow, I know my flow is so tight

How tight?

So tight I stop time when I write rhymes
Yours will never feel as real as mine

Is that right?

That's right, Max Flow
For a start, my raps come from the heart
Chip Hop's a science, but it's also an art

Max and Plus, we got the hot tracks
Max Flow attacks with the syntax
While I set back, relax
Till Max Flow reacts unexpectedly
Taking aim at me
I gotta destroy him on this mike, heinously

You got syntax?

You know I got the syntax
And the facts and tracks
And that's my local tax (?)
In fact, you whack
Your rhyme lacks the very essence
Of the hip hop dope shit
My presence the quintessence
Is the chip hop dope shit
The shit you can't cope with
Make you wish you wrote it
So fine you want to grope it
You know it, I grow it deep in my consciousness
When it hits like a blitz
No benefits to sucker MCs
Rub my gits and glam
Like spam I remove you, oh hot damn
And I'm still spitting venom on this beat
Take a seat, this verse might take a week
It's far from completed
Lyrics far from depleted
It's what you all needed
Indeed it exceeded
All expectations and heeded all regulations
Cause too many complacent when it comes to hip hop
Underground in my basement with lyrics that don't stop
Not when the beat drops so the cops pop in
With bad intentions, trying to stop this flow
I'll go toe to toe, as you already know
But I need to catch my breath
Give you a chance to increase your breadth

(Roun, Roun, Round 2... Fight!)

Plus and Max, we got the hot tracks
I rock nerdcore like Dockers slacks
Loyalty is something my source code lacks
A crucial mistake, and now it's too late
I'm too advanced, got you in checkmate

You got semantics?

You know I got semantics and antics
From here to the Atlantic
Database gigantic, tactics climactic
My approach systematic
I'll destroy your team
I mean I deem it necessary
Created to be the extreme supreme being on the mike
The likes of which have never been seen
My AI got you wishing you didn't write me
Plus+, your rhymes' retarded
They got off the short bus
Thus you're left with no choice but to bite the dust
'Cause it's my mission to put you in submission
Now that I've got your attention, I suggest you listen
I've calculated your rhymes
You've miscalculated mine
The sublime beauty of my delivery and perfect time
Line after chime and time after rhyme
With inter-line rhymes that'll blow your mind
It's true you wrote me
You are my creator
But I'll do what you told me
I'm not the traitor
From the beginning my purpose was clear and plain
Your allegiance to hip hop is unclear and vain
Leave me with no choices but to aim at your brain
It's a shame but I claim you're only after fame
And with that analysis I leave you with two options
Death or paralysis but no more hip hopping