Prolific_1011
05-22-06, 12:37 PM
damn whose ill enough to write the sickest verse... on the sickness on earth
prolific...wit the radical, supernatural, magical words
im motivated by mystic dreams, spitting tracks wit the sickest themes,
making stephen king re-write the illest scripts
this is a business trip, first class rhyming depicting the realest flicks
a motion picture, starring the sickest mix...related to flesh
yo im sick like faces of death, my pencil tip erases my stress
so...i wrote the following quotes as a matrix for sense...
as in... common sense for your mind to encode in your optic lens
on the real...im sick of wasted talent that froze on the project steps
im sick of the beef, sick of the clipse that blow on the streets
sick of the weak, sick of the whips that shine like gems on the wrist
sick of the devil, sick of rebels who settle wit no direction
sick of the trophies and medals, i rather be infested wit lessons
sick of the world wasting its pearls...raping on girls
sick enough to go to sleep like im escaping the world
sick of burners and murders reaching double digit numbers
sick of the cats who blow gats and kill they own brothers
sick of the corruption from the politicians who don't listen
sick of the emcees who got talent for no reason
sick of killings and rotten buildings that poisons our children
sick of the millions spent on paintings on celiens
sick of the system designed for taking my freedom
sick of mansions built near the poverty stricken ghettos
sick of the ignorant minds livin lies, may god bless you
sick of the fact that latin and blacks be lackin in cash
sick of the act of cats braggin in raps but stackin the trash
sick of congress passing laws for more profit
sick of false prophets asking god for more knowledge
sick of prisons built to be filled... by dark skin tones
sick of the system and victims deprived from dark gem stones
sick of starvation, the poor and the hungry
sick of the greed in couples that divorce for money
nas i gave u power sample
*sick of the blood
Sick of the thugs,
sick of wrath of the, next man's grudge*
Yo S. is for the sickness... that diminishes my poetical enlightment
I. is for internal, the pain that hurts you like the color purple inside us
C. is for crisis, lifeless souls minus the godess isis
K. is for the knowledge that keeps tyrants from defiant vices
im the sickest wit lyrics, possesing the better flow
wit the most incredible, credible truth, healthy like edible fruits
but back to the subject thats uplifting the public
im sick of corrupted mayors working wit limited budgets
im sick of little girls emulating centerfolds,its chemical...
imbalances, that attract the masses to poisonous access
ebonics or spanish, whiteness or blackness...
im sick of prejudice habits with most souls letting it happen
im in pursuit of truth that quenches our needs
lessons and dreams, my soul is rested and freed
though tempted in greed, the one blemish it seems
to instill weakness, though im still able to build my theses
speak my mind and fufill my reasons of why my skill releases...
the illest pieces, of art, my pen is noahs ark
my words are the different species that spark...
a new life, this is true life, they say im so sick cause im too nice
all set aside, i energize like a speech by morgan freeman
this is foreign season, i got visions of the poor posing wit porches gleaming
minorities taking over yet again,
peace to africans and south americans
reap your benefits cause its well deserved
overthrow racist devils who minimize your worth
no more picking fruits and vegetables
the truth is innevitable
take a hold of your fear and let it go
grabs gats, let it blow
make them back-track,and set your goals...
yo im sick of the federal aid,
treating victims, like it was meant for the slaves
im not john Q, but i want a medical change....
damn, the poor taking a back seat to vaccines
now kids idolize their favorite athletes...
and rappers wit extensive rap sheets
parents just staring, eyes flaring cause they got a a child baring...
a new seed, teens pregenant, yeah i said it...
teens pregnant, young girls wit leg spreadin that stretches...
like damn, multiple sexes and partners, now whose the father?
but god blesses, thats forgiveness in the essence
son, recite this verse and thats sickness in its presence
nas i gave u power sample
*sick of the blood
Sick of the thugs,
sick of wrath of the, next man's grudge*
Yo S. is for the sickness... that diminishes my poetical enlightment
I. is for internal, the pain that hurts you like the color purple inside us
C. is for crisis, lifeless souls minus the godess isis
K. is for the knowledge that keeps tyrants from defiant vices
yo.. hip hop is dying and i got proof,
peace to big and pac, now they shot proof...
ima teach my son...first it was the sun, but now cats pack heat from a gun
it seems as if bums, the young blind and dumb in the slums only sip on red rum...
spelled backwards, thank god i was able to rap first...
it kept me from devilish sentiments that blinded like oedipus
im rhyming wit a breath-of-fresh...air that blesses lyrical sentences
pass the medicine to heal humanity's neglegence
i need food and shelter, the rest is irrelevant...
cause rusted tenements keep us from other benefits
my life insurance comes when i write the purest...
verses...thru my mic performance, rhyme forces
can make blind horses lead chariots to an ill fortress
i rhyme sick like chemically imbalanced patients
in hospital beds, dancing to sick ballads wit satan
ima keep inkin, manifest my thinkin to a higher sequence
i write like im sleepin, re-livin the visions from my dreams n'
i turn fantasy to reality and pump my fist for freedom...
im sick of being stuck in gravel pits wit death...
lurking around the corner, getting closer, wit steps
god bless the hardships the hopeless posess
we aint focused when ice and fame fries the brain
if we died today i still got my rhymes to reign
how can u hurt me, when i seen pain in a physical form
if pain was rain than let me unleash a lyrical storm
health before wealth and anything else
yet...im on a mental trip...sick of the hell that makes me dwell
sit on my chair and stare at the world in dispair
composing the verse i thirst, my urdge is to repair...
the wrath consumed by the chaotic mass as fiends blaze toxic gas
i wont rest until we shout out "free at last"
watch for traps, tech and macs that blast on our path
yo im sick to my stomach, blunted by verses and psalms
my vomit is the poison that moistens the leaves in babylon
where indigenous tribals live along the amazon...
river, though not good for my liver...
i sip liquor to calm my fever
reminese... about the genesis of spiritual leaders
time flashes as we toast with wine glasses,
im suited wit fine fasion but im feeling guilty kid,
im sick of seeing a poor man next to the filthy rich
my sickness relapses, under certain circumstances...
i uncover caskets, smoke shakespeares burning ashes
as the serpen watches...im rehearsing the urban passage...
from the bible, as god as my idol...and witness
my sickness... arises from a persons wishes to inhibit limits to my lyrics
nas i gave u power sample
*sick of the blood
Sick of the thugs,
sick of wrath of the, next man's grudge*
Yo S. is for the sickness... that diminishes my poetical enlightment
I. is for internal, the pain that hurts you like the color purple inside us
C. is for crisis, lifeless souls minus the godess isis
K. is for the knowledge that keeps tyrants from defiant vices
nas i gave u power sample
*sick of the blood
Sick of the thugs,
sick of wrath of the, next man's grudge*
ONE
prolific...wit the radical, supernatural, magical words
im motivated by mystic dreams, spitting tracks wit the sickest themes,
making stephen king re-write the illest scripts
this is a business trip, first class rhyming depicting the realest flicks
a motion picture, starring the sickest mix...related to flesh
yo im sick like faces of death, my pencil tip erases my stress
so...i wrote the following quotes as a matrix for sense...
as in... common sense for your mind to encode in your optic lens
on the real...im sick of wasted talent that froze on the project steps
im sick of the beef, sick of the clipse that blow on the streets
sick of the weak, sick of the whips that shine like gems on the wrist
sick of the devil, sick of rebels who settle wit no direction
sick of the trophies and medals, i rather be infested wit lessons
sick of the world wasting its pearls...raping on girls
sick enough to go to sleep like im escaping the world
sick of burners and murders reaching double digit numbers
sick of the cats who blow gats and kill they own brothers
sick of the corruption from the politicians who don't listen
sick of the emcees who got talent for no reason
sick of killings and rotten buildings that poisons our children
sick of the millions spent on paintings on celiens
sick of the system designed for taking my freedom
sick of mansions built near the poverty stricken ghettos
sick of the ignorant minds livin lies, may god bless you
sick of the fact that latin and blacks be lackin in cash
sick of the act of cats braggin in raps but stackin the trash
sick of congress passing laws for more profit
sick of false prophets asking god for more knowledge
sick of prisons built to be filled... by dark skin tones
sick of the system and victims deprived from dark gem stones
sick of starvation, the poor and the hungry
sick of the greed in couples that divorce for money
nas i gave u power sample
*sick of the blood
Sick of the thugs,
sick of wrath of the, next man's grudge*
Yo S. is for the sickness... that diminishes my poetical enlightment
I. is for internal, the pain that hurts you like the color purple inside us
C. is for crisis, lifeless souls minus the godess isis
K. is for the knowledge that keeps tyrants from defiant vices
im the sickest wit lyrics, possesing the better flow
wit the most incredible, credible truth, healthy like edible fruits
but back to the subject thats uplifting the public
im sick of corrupted mayors working wit limited budgets
im sick of little girls emulating centerfolds,its chemical...
imbalances, that attract the masses to poisonous access
ebonics or spanish, whiteness or blackness...
im sick of prejudice habits with most souls letting it happen
im in pursuit of truth that quenches our needs
lessons and dreams, my soul is rested and freed
though tempted in greed, the one blemish it seems
to instill weakness, though im still able to build my theses
speak my mind and fufill my reasons of why my skill releases...
the illest pieces, of art, my pen is noahs ark
my words are the different species that spark...
a new life, this is true life, they say im so sick cause im too nice
all set aside, i energize like a speech by morgan freeman
this is foreign season, i got visions of the poor posing wit porches gleaming
minorities taking over yet again,
peace to africans and south americans
reap your benefits cause its well deserved
overthrow racist devils who minimize your worth
no more picking fruits and vegetables
the truth is innevitable
take a hold of your fear and let it go
grabs gats, let it blow
make them back-track,and set your goals...
yo im sick of the federal aid,
treating victims, like it was meant for the slaves
im not john Q, but i want a medical change....
damn, the poor taking a back seat to vaccines
now kids idolize their favorite athletes...
and rappers wit extensive rap sheets
parents just staring, eyes flaring cause they got a a child baring...
a new seed, teens pregenant, yeah i said it...
teens pregnant, young girls wit leg spreadin that stretches...
like damn, multiple sexes and partners, now whose the father?
but god blesses, thats forgiveness in the essence
son, recite this verse and thats sickness in its presence
nas i gave u power sample
*sick of the blood
Sick of the thugs,
sick of wrath of the, next man's grudge*
Yo S. is for the sickness... that diminishes my poetical enlightment
I. is for internal, the pain that hurts you like the color purple inside us
C. is for crisis, lifeless souls minus the godess isis
K. is for the knowledge that keeps tyrants from defiant vices
yo.. hip hop is dying and i got proof,
peace to big and pac, now they shot proof...
ima teach my son...first it was the sun, but now cats pack heat from a gun
it seems as if bums, the young blind and dumb in the slums only sip on red rum...
spelled backwards, thank god i was able to rap first...
it kept me from devilish sentiments that blinded like oedipus
im rhyming wit a breath-of-fresh...air that blesses lyrical sentences
pass the medicine to heal humanity's neglegence
i need food and shelter, the rest is irrelevant...
cause rusted tenements keep us from other benefits
my life insurance comes when i write the purest...
verses...thru my mic performance, rhyme forces
can make blind horses lead chariots to an ill fortress
i rhyme sick like chemically imbalanced patients
in hospital beds, dancing to sick ballads wit satan
ima keep inkin, manifest my thinkin to a higher sequence
i write like im sleepin, re-livin the visions from my dreams n'
i turn fantasy to reality and pump my fist for freedom...
im sick of being stuck in gravel pits wit death...
lurking around the corner, getting closer, wit steps
god bless the hardships the hopeless posess
we aint focused when ice and fame fries the brain
if we died today i still got my rhymes to reign
how can u hurt me, when i seen pain in a physical form
if pain was rain than let me unleash a lyrical storm
health before wealth and anything else
yet...im on a mental trip...sick of the hell that makes me dwell
sit on my chair and stare at the world in dispair
composing the verse i thirst, my urdge is to repair...
the wrath consumed by the chaotic mass as fiends blaze toxic gas
i wont rest until we shout out "free at last"
watch for traps, tech and macs that blast on our path
yo im sick to my stomach, blunted by verses and psalms
my vomit is the poison that moistens the leaves in babylon
where indigenous tribals live along the amazon...
river, though not good for my liver...
i sip liquor to calm my fever
reminese... about the genesis of spiritual leaders
time flashes as we toast with wine glasses,
im suited wit fine fasion but im feeling guilty kid,
im sick of seeing a poor man next to the filthy rich
my sickness relapses, under certain circumstances...
i uncover caskets, smoke shakespeares burning ashes
as the serpen watches...im rehearsing the urban passage...
from the bible, as god as my idol...and witness
my sickness... arises from a persons wishes to inhibit limits to my lyrics
nas i gave u power sample
*sick of the blood
Sick of the thugs,
sick of wrath of the, next man's grudge*
Yo S. is for the sickness... that diminishes my poetical enlightment
I. is for internal, the pain that hurts you like the color purple inside us
C. is for crisis, lifeless souls minus the godess isis
K. is for the knowledge that keeps tyrants from defiant vices
nas i gave u power sample
*sick of the blood
Sick of the thugs,
sick of wrath of the, next man's grudge*
ONE