theman080
06-27-06, 09:22 PM
Prolific
080
i hold mics at the center of mecca
with transetters, ill story tellers and dream sellers
plus professors slash mind testers who study mic molesters
enter...the mind of global dissenters...
before i write, ima lower my temper
through the darkness of nights, i mourn the death of...
the emcee...son tempt me, before i let the nine mili bust
trust...i stroll wit a pen thats not willing to rust
long live the poetical blood cause you aint killing us
my words are poetry in motion like cinemas
while watered down music stays confusing our listeners
cuffing their minds like political prisoners
they got rid of em like X and martin
but we straped wit techs while marching
we stay hopeful and toast to a million causes
i hear those...tracks from nasir jones
i tear bones wit sounds of rare flows
how dare those...wack emcees stand in my presence
i handed my weapons, in exchange for a mic and some lessons
the suns darker, im iced out like sean carter...
but remain humble, poverty keeps my mind puzzled
like bundles...of cash that runs through the mass
theres evil in those... in love wit the stash...of dough,
pardon my flow,i sharpened my stone and started to glow
as if haunted by ghosts that guarded my throne
i spit that 360 degree that covers the whole spectrum
ima bring life before the whole globe is dead son
before da vinci's code is fully diciphered
till then, ima i spit fire wit prolific writers
its what i do, what i breathe, elevated truth in my dreams...
i translate, then meditate on gorgeous landscapes
evil forces wont taint the hand-made...
garnments i wear, it would only tarnish my flare
the pen is the king of kings and you not breathing my air
my ink sheds light on truth like apostels feasting on bread and juice
senseless war, but bless the troops who refresh our youth
my views are reflected in conferences of street knowledgist
im not a terrorist apologist who processes evil accomplishments
like prophets did, i envision explosions on offices...
shattered windows, nightmares rested on pillows
rewind time and turn widows to wives, pistols to ninessymbols and signs keep me motivated
where do i start, abstract art enlightens my sparkmy skills are blood for the sharks a royal flush for cards and drugs for the narcs
im that nasty, flashy, crafty wit verbal spray
u cant see me, like graffitti on trains that decay the illest days
im top five dead or alive, the stress in my life...
inspires the best of my rhymes evoking the depth of my mind
forever clutching a mic till the death in my eyes
listen brother, my mics comes in different colors
my writing is lightning...im the stolen thunder
here to witness your fall like a stlolen summer
peep this mic minister's innvoations, type sinister situations
It’s indicating elimination if my alliteration escapes the page its caged in
Don’t taste the ancients statements, it’ll leave your mouth brittle and dry
Shrivelled and fried, but I found it makes my syllables fly
My mind confines a criminal cry, but eclipsin the bitterness
Its because the sickness is imminent, while most consistently missin it
Its not my egos rhythmic efficientness, that Christ is my religious equivalent
Its sacrifice for the cause, to bring the light to the flawed
To ignite what was stalled and bring the right to the wrong
It’s the path that I’ve drawn until I put the plight at a pause
I’m righteous and raw, spittin with a fight til I fall
Sliced in a brawl, the blood-flow oozes right through the guaze
And I’m laid on a bed, hospital assistants shakin they heads
Stare wit a frown, as the doctor signs a statement of death
This time there’s no exaggeration of centered swirls
To help the navigation of netherworlds, just a momentary reflection
Of my varied intentions, catalogued, ensarin the essence
In my prime a money monitor, uncanny country conqueror
Surprised at how that changed to an up at sun philosopher
In time I preached the turning, spread my wisdom through speech
There seemed within an imminent reach, a time I could consider as peace
But the powers at be perferred me as a narcotic distributor
Permanent front page patsi, psychotic exhibiter
A mindless plottin criminal so the words they jot is literal
Keep me in the public eye, as opposed to white collar individuals
The more praise I receive, they serve bullets at me like Federer
I reveal my intentions as Mayor competitor, prepare the editors!!
Initial polls show my success over a former sex offendin Senator
Turned ‘X’ effected predator, fiendin’ funding for his addiction
So he runs for Mayor of my town, another slums that he could piss in
He’s related to the Secretary of Defense, so he skates wit his cancerous humidities
Except wit the press, they obsessed wit my philanthropist activities
Its this that attacks and riddles me, as a fiend I rarely received a threat
But an hour after a debate, I feel a switch-blade breech my neck
In a second I meet the steps, hard concrete cuts my flesh
The assailent leans in close, shoves the knife above my vest
A pedestrian screams for help, as I’m sensing my defeat
The attacker mumbles a statement “You should’ve kept it in the streets”
Its just the life cycle, Godfather lyin still in the willows
Presidents bein shot, fiends puttin pistols to pillows
My chapters less than a page of the play set to the stage
Still I feel regret when I say w’re less than a tenth of the way
To where we’re destined to lay, until that segmant we stay
080
i hold mics at the center of mecca
with transetters, ill story tellers and dream sellers
plus professors slash mind testers who study mic molesters
enter...the mind of global dissenters...
before i write, ima lower my temper
through the darkness of nights, i mourn the death of...
the emcee...son tempt me, before i let the nine mili bust
trust...i stroll wit a pen thats not willing to rust
long live the poetical blood cause you aint killing us
my words are poetry in motion like cinemas
while watered down music stays confusing our listeners
cuffing their minds like political prisoners
they got rid of em like X and martin
but we straped wit techs while marching
we stay hopeful and toast to a million causes
i hear those...tracks from nasir jones
i tear bones wit sounds of rare flows
how dare those...wack emcees stand in my presence
i handed my weapons, in exchange for a mic and some lessons
the suns darker, im iced out like sean carter...
but remain humble, poverty keeps my mind puzzled
like bundles...of cash that runs through the mass
theres evil in those... in love wit the stash...of dough,
pardon my flow,i sharpened my stone and started to glow
as if haunted by ghosts that guarded my throne
i spit that 360 degree that covers the whole spectrum
ima bring life before the whole globe is dead son
before da vinci's code is fully diciphered
till then, ima i spit fire wit prolific writers
its what i do, what i breathe, elevated truth in my dreams...
i translate, then meditate on gorgeous landscapes
evil forces wont taint the hand-made...
garnments i wear, it would only tarnish my flare
the pen is the king of kings and you not breathing my air
my ink sheds light on truth like apostels feasting on bread and juice
senseless war, but bless the troops who refresh our youth
my views are reflected in conferences of street knowledgist
im not a terrorist apologist who processes evil accomplishments
like prophets did, i envision explosions on offices...
shattered windows, nightmares rested on pillows
rewind time and turn widows to wives, pistols to ninessymbols and signs keep me motivated
where do i start, abstract art enlightens my sparkmy skills are blood for the sharks a royal flush for cards and drugs for the narcs
im that nasty, flashy, crafty wit verbal spray
u cant see me, like graffitti on trains that decay the illest days
im top five dead or alive, the stress in my life...
inspires the best of my rhymes evoking the depth of my mind
forever clutching a mic till the death in my eyes
listen brother, my mics comes in different colors
my writing is lightning...im the stolen thunder
here to witness your fall like a stlolen summer
peep this mic minister's innvoations, type sinister situations
It’s indicating elimination if my alliteration escapes the page its caged in
Don’t taste the ancients statements, it’ll leave your mouth brittle and dry
Shrivelled and fried, but I found it makes my syllables fly
My mind confines a criminal cry, but eclipsin the bitterness
Its because the sickness is imminent, while most consistently missin it
Its not my egos rhythmic efficientness, that Christ is my religious equivalent
Its sacrifice for the cause, to bring the light to the flawed
To ignite what was stalled and bring the right to the wrong
It’s the path that I’ve drawn until I put the plight at a pause
I’m righteous and raw, spittin with a fight til I fall
Sliced in a brawl, the blood-flow oozes right through the guaze
And I’m laid on a bed, hospital assistants shakin they heads
Stare wit a frown, as the doctor signs a statement of death
This time there’s no exaggeration of centered swirls
To help the navigation of netherworlds, just a momentary reflection
Of my varied intentions, catalogued, ensarin the essence
In my prime a money monitor, uncanny country conqueror
Surprised at how that changed to an up at sun philosopher
In time I preached the turning, spread my wisdom through speech
There seemed within an imminent reach, a time I could consider as peace
But the powers at be perferred me as a narcotic distributor
Permanent front page patsi, psychotic exhibiter
A mindless plottin criminal so the words they jot is literal
Keep me in the public eye, as opposed to white collar individuals
The more praise I receive, they serve bullets at me like Federer
I reveal my intentions as Mayor competitor, prepare the editors!!
Initial polls show my success over a former sex offendin Senator
Turned ‘X’ effected predator, fiendin’ funding for his addiction
So he runs for Mayor of my town, another slums that he could piss in
He’s related to the Secretary of Defense, so he skates wit his cancerous humidities
Except wit the press, they obsessed wit my philanthropist activities
Its this that attacks and riddles me, as a fiend I rarely received a threat
But an hour after a debate, I feel a switch-blade breech my neck
In a second I meet the steps, hard concrete cuts my flesh
The assailent leans in close, shoves the knife above my vest
A pedestrian screams for help, as I’m sensing my defeat
The attacker mumbles a statement “You should’ve kept it in the streets”
Its just the life cycle, Godfather lyin still in the willows
Presidents bein shot, fiends puttin pistols to pillows
My chapters less than a page of the play set to the stage
Still I feel regret when I say w’re less than a tenth of the way
To where we’re destined to lay, until that segmant we stay