Dave, Fist of Odin Clearing my throat, which turns into the start of a beat - it's actually a pretty sweet move, or at least a BR14-sweet move.

Then,

Fuck you demon bee-atch and your caveman catamite
You ryhmz stink worse than when I did j0-mamma last night
All you suckas gotta step off
(some, I guess, gotta die)
'Cuz I'm Dave, Fist of Odin and I rap the mike tight.

Make a save against your rap? You a drop-dead tool
I just rolled a fuckin' twelve and that MAKES it, fool
All y'all gotta step off
(I suppose some gotta die)
And what I'm'a gonna do? Take your ass on back to school.

So you made a little man, ain't that precious, ain't that nice
But when it comes to makin' checks - yo, I roll twennies on the dice
Now you wanna be gangstas
Gotta step off, gotta die
Hey - Anaxamothafucka, I beat you once, twice, THRICE.

What's that you say? It was four not three?
Well churn my butter and butt-fuck a bee!
You know what I'm thinking, my mace and me?
It's gonna be FIVE times to your head you re-
TARD I'm smacking you for a

one.

Fuck.

I stop the beat for a moment while the demon takes his shot. At least I didn't try to get away with rhyming 'what-nots' and 'rocks'. I mean, sure dude, you were just created, some crazy-ass motherfucker takes your legs off with a bandsaw,

With a bandsaw? That's just weird.

Anyway. If you're not feeling well enough to bust some rhymz out, Mr. Cave Man, maybe you shouldn't step up to where the big boyz are passing the mic around. You feel me?

Oh - wait - all you're probably feeling is the incredible agony of having your legs sawed off. Ha!

Hit point check? And I'll keep beat-boxin' if anyone else wants to grab the mic that I just dropped.  ¶ 11:25 PM