Ivar's raps for the L0lf2p Dungeoneering FC rap competition.

Hey, yo Derek, or should I say the 'Immerse Verse',
or 'Slim shady moon', I don't know. T'sounds like a curse.
So diverse, too perverse, can't get much worse
than this, so shit yet lit, you kid, get hit.
Your granddad can't knit.
It's sad, my bad. Your stache,
worse than a nomad in Trinidad.
I have added you to my ignore list.
Can't resist, must persist, a chance not missed.
And though I'm in the midst I should reverse.
I'll even rehearse if you insist, be terse.
But seriously, just because you can type 'End' seven times in a second
doesn't mean you can rap, I reckon.
I'll back down, I'm acting like a clown;
it's frowned upon, having a nervous breakdown
this is my playground, for you a ghosttown:
No one around, only you.
How cute, who knew I'd have to eschew
you. Can't undo my love for my DG guru.
Deerk, you're beloved
by a couple of mourning doves, whistling from above.
Your hand, my basketball glove: perfect fit
to interconnect, positive effect.
I'm affectuous, contemptuous, and seriously
Derek, you are the Kendrick to my Lamar:
Euphoric and a tinge bizarre, my star
in this universe of art.
My prose, for Nose, chose to be gross
but here goes: "Can I tickle your toes?"

Gr8 mate, this is ‘the basketball glove’ speaking
I hate to tell you, I am not the kind of love you’re seeking
You put Dora the Indi-Explora in checkmate.
Yes Mzyami, you should ask “Who am I?”
Because it’s time for you to abdicate;
The name is Ivar, version 289336 telling you goodbye.
You used to be prime in DG, but look at you now:
even I have passed both of your accounts.
But don’t worry, it might be blurry, but I can help you out.
No need to hurry while my knowledge is still abundant.
You look as green as your collection of mint fondant
I’d be sick too from that lowercase name,
gr8skiller misses a capital G, what a shame.
No wonder you call yourself ‘gr8 the ir8’.
It’s understandable, grammar is for everyone to irritate
We can relate, no hate, but too late, this is your unfortunate fate.
Two 8 nine three three six out, mate.

Welcome to the semi-finals, Stomp.
You easily progressed in this comp,
so that’s why I’m here to give you a whomp.
I tell you: “Welcome to my swamp.”

“Each time a third of its health is taken down,
it will become invincible for a short time.”
This should be familiar for you, it’s your playground
but I’ll take over, fear my rhyme.

You call yourself the ‘Stomp Lover’.
When I call “Miners” you’re here to discover
his big eerie mouth, you gaze at him like no other:
F23, we say “Tyffs” perfectly while you stutter.

So you think Mining isn’t a skill,
but you love to mine the rocks in Stomp’s room.
When he hits you with his rocks, you feel a thrill.
Ouch! We’re all hurt, but you’re abloom.

Congratulations on 99 Smithing!
You like spent six months in Artisans Workshop.
Now you’re in EHP, who are you shitting?
Okay, that’s it. You can go back to AFK. I’ll stop.

Oh man, normally I’m not bad at writing lyrics,
but for the fourth week in a row I’ve been staring at this empty page for minutes.
But let’s be honest, this is all just a gimmick,
my serene appearance, am in high spirits.
Trust me, I am fearless and have perseverance.
I am not afraid of critics, nor any of you cynics.
Remember, it’s satiric, no harsh feelings in it.
Redef, you’re my dearest, but I’m here to win this.

Welcome to round four, close to 69.
You’re like a sophomore, while I’m everyone’s shrine.
I’ve made it to the finals, for a freakin’ reason:
I’m here to slaughter you; it is Hunting Season.
Look at the tournament’s bracket, I’ve always been #1.
You are here to attack it, but all you do is run.
This isn’t Fist of Guthix, nor is it Dungeoneering.
“289336” is what everyone is cheering.
Nice female character, all that for just a cape.
Hiding your identity but you cannot escape.
No but seriously, you’re a completionist.
Oh wait, 50 Defence... you know 99 exists?
You can’t even wear Gud Raider’s. I’ll kill you, that’s for sure.
Before you ask, yes! I’ve heard of Defence pures,
though I’m not really worried, your whole ‘you’ seems obscure.
Alright alright, I’ll back off. Let’s not be immature.

No, because...
You are The Redefinition,
there’s no need to be bitchin’.
Can you please stop spittin’ bars
‘cause you’re 200 mil Smithing.
Why don’t you share some love
with ‘the Basketball Glove’?
I’m a freaking weakling, Redef,
How about we turn this shit off?

No man, I am kidding, continuing the slaughter.
You expect apologies? Not even gonna bother.
I hope you understand this isn’t a peace treaty.
This is no fairy land where Gordie is your sweetie.
But if you find it funny, feel free to say “XD”,
like you do with every message I say in EHP.
I rap a capella, that’s just how I roll.
I don’t need some fancy beat to show who’s in control.
I may have simple rhymes, at least they are effective.
Go read between the lines and look at my objective.
You may have more mills than The Netherlands,
though I’m fluent in Dutch and English, while you struggle with French.
Yeah it’s clear now, your Canadian roots are showing.
Did you cry when you burnt maples? Emotions overflowing.
Scorched down your own country, all these logs you’ve been throwing
don’t contain that maple syrup, of which your body was growing.

But don’t worry man, don’t worry.
Because...
You are The Redefinition,
there’s no need to be bitchin’.
Can you please stop spittin’ bars
‘cause you’re 200 mil Smithing.
Why don’t you share some love
With ‘the Basketball Glove’?
I’m a freaking weakling, Redef,
how about we turn this shit off?

Like I said before, this is all an act.
Pretended to be tough, felt viciously attacked.
But I do want to end with a positive view,
because Redefinition: I think I love you.