W.I.Z.E.
05-24-03, 09:46 AM
Rock at the drop of a dime, stopped by the cock of my glock to your spine,
Mockin’ these mimes, locked and confined, apocalyptical times.
I formulate my passages under the darkness of light,
While others postulate their epithets and blunder with might.
Locked in your sight, the best flow – er Sohh Knows on this site,
Holding your spite while I’m steady just controlling the mic.
Holdin a mic, 80% of yall aint EVER spat live,
Out on the ave, in a cipher or simply just to survive,
For lack of drive I stopped the vocals on a track in nine five,
Trappin your minds, lackin the shine I stay deep rooted online.
So when I drop a written, know that I kick hot when I’m spitting,
Not to be bitten, by you cats with strictly optic renditions,
Too all faggots that *****in, “he just dissed my textcee traditions”
I’m saying listen that just aint me so don’t get hostile and twisted.
Listen,
to grow your craft understand the arts of the culture,
Nurture the truth, writings cool but alone it will falter,
So resurrect, study elements to resonate stronger,
Or don’t think of being hip-hop any longer you gonner.
Jockin position, you lackluster fags are flooding the market,
Missing the part, this is an art with a culture that sparks it.
When I was starving, for an outlet it was it(hip hop) that responded,
And some of yall been steady eatin so your hunger is tarnished.
And to be honest, the horizon’s vying climates for vultures,
Some of yall like the music but dawg I’M IN LOVE with the culture,
“Yo did you hear?” from Sugar Hill I been in love w/ the culture,
Run-DMC, Treacherous Three rockin live for the culture.
Rock Steady Crew, Red Alert man that’s how I got focused,
The golden age birthin this piece stop in awe and disownment,
Vogue and condolence, holdin’ moments low behold wut’s been stolen,
Skill and persistence, deaths the omen but I bless wut I’m holdin’,
Mic’s – I did, past tense, present wondering if,
The next generation will bring a soul back to this ****.
So Listen,
to grow your craft know the arts of the culture,
Nurture the truth, writings cool but alone it will falter,
So resurrect, study elements to resonate stronger,
Or don’t think of being hip-hop - any longer.
In the mirror, I see the cause of the collapse that I’m speakin’,
Preachin’ to weaklings but this evening saw a glimpse of a demon,
I mean in 95 I lost the soul, no longer wuz breathin’,
I dropped the mic, and didn’t write after Hip hop gave me life,
And then I walked around trite, thinkin’ wut it be like.
Fightin’ the spite, if done right I could’ve lit up the night,
Stars only lead a path, if self reflection glistens the plight.
Vision and might showed the victim and the killer in sight,
Wasn’t just who I pointed at but myself in the light.
They gave it life, and now must witness the damn death of this culture.
They barely got paid a dime yet they did it for fun,
And in response, the music thrived and the message wuz sung,
Threw all the struggles, it survived but wut’s it become?
I realize my despise is also wut’ I’ve become.
Mockin’ these mimes, locked and confined, apocalyptical times.
I formulate my passages under the darkness of light,
While others postulate their epithets and blunder with might.
Locked in your sight, the best flow – er Sohh Knows on this site,
Holding your spite while I’m steady just controlling the mic.
Holdin a mic, 80% of yall aint EVER spat live,
Out on the ave, in a cipher or simply just to survive,
For lack of drive I stopped the vocals on a track in nine five,
Trappin your minds, lackin the shine I stay deep rooted online.
So when I drop a written, know that I kick hot when I’m spitting,
Not to be bitten, by you cats with strictly optic renditions,
Too all faggots that *****in, “he just dissed my textcee traditions”
I’m saying listen that just aint me so don’t get hostile and twisted.
Listen,
to grow your craft understand the arts of the culture,
Nurture the truth, writings cool but alone it will falter,
So resurrect, study elements to resonate stronger,
Or don’t think of being hip-hop any longer you gonner.
Jockin position, you lackluster fags are flooding the market,
Missing the part, this is an art with a culture that sparks it.
When I was starving, for an outlet it was it(hip hop) that responded,
And some of yall been steady eatin so your hunger is tarnished.
And to be honest, the horizon’s vying climates for vultures,
Some of yall like the music but dawg I’M IN LOVE with the culture,
“Yo did you hear?” from Sugar Hill I been in love w/ the culture,
Run-DMC, Treacherous Three rockin live for the culture.
Rock Steady Crew, Red Alert man that’s how I got focused,
The golden age birthin this piece stop in awe and disownment,
Vogue and condolence, holdin’ moments low behold wut’s been stolen,
Skill and persistence, deaths the omen but I bless wut I’m holdin’,
Mic’s – I did, past tense, present wondering if,
The next generation will bring a soul back to this ****.
So Listen,
to grow your craft know the arts of the culture,
Nurture the truth, writings cool but alone it will falter,
So resurrect, study elements to resonate stronger,
Or don’t think of being hip-hop - any longer.
In the mirror, I see the cause of the collapse that I’m speakin’,
Preachin’ to weaklings but this evening saw a glimpse of a demon,
I mean in 95 I lost the soul, no longer wuz breathin’,
I dropped the mic, and didn’t write after Hip hop gave me life,
And then I walked around trite, thinkin’ wut it be like.
Fightin’ the spite, if done right I could’ve lit up the night,
Stars only lead a path, if self reflection glistens the plight.
Vision and might showed the victim and the killer in sight,
Wasn’t just who I pointed at but myself in the light.
They gave it life, and now must witness the damn death of this culture.
They barely got paid a dime yet they did it for fun,
And in response, the music thrived and the message wuz sung,
Threw all the struggles, it survived but wut’s it become?
I realize my despise is also wut’ I’ve become.