Check my endgames, rook, my technique's textbook
My play stays thunderous, like Russell Westbrook
Your play stays blunderous, like clunky guesswork.
I collect purse at tourneys - you've a junkies' net worth.
I trap horses like Derby, strap you to a metaphorical gurney for your inexplicably disastrous journey. Gaffimous.
Gaffe-filled play, with no backbone, I'm giraffe-ish, homes. Your pieces play in a lil doggie park, mine Jurassic, I set a fantastic tone.
I beast on noobs like wesley, so shut the hell up, and don't bother tellin' me about a variation I didn't play - I was prolonging the agony of that dumb, persistent fella smell me?
That's the gas, for my stomach rumblings release from a certain one of my body's sphinctors - permeating the hall with stink, sir.
How post a game?
You've been here more than seven years, and you've been fairly active on the forums ... and you decide to ask a question like that in a thread titled "chess rap"?
No offense intended. I just think it's a bit odd.
When you start to lose your dressI know you been taking methCuz' your game ain't how it should be.We've been playing for yearsgot rooks in our earsbut you still lose to a candy ass noobie.I know it hurts brahbut don't take it like the lawyou know you would have beat him if you didn't stop to jaw.Come on mate, I know you can beat thisnoobies come and go like Lionel Regusbut if you want to hang with these boys from da hoodyou gotta learn to suck it up and keep moving that wood.
What HUP WHRIST?