Buddah MAC
10-13-07, 03:55 AM
scribble thought on a page, address for minds to meet
reach the spot alone...missed call or delete?
float past possibility on inflated ego raft
ate what I shoulda halved with starving while I laughed
at canned laughter in attempts to make the past blur
missed deadline with death: writers block on the last word
cast third on the depth chart, I touchdown when yall are hurtin'
with medivac chopper, blades cut down your final curtain
scenery stands silent witness to false world you act in
scrimmage flip to real game and prevent D is lackin'
while MACin' is a game grounded in wanderlust
find a style, flex it, search for next to bust
next to us is my mic and your speaker
cept I'm the speaker and the mic is how I greet the
assembly, trembling, shook like Monica's lip
off the weapon pointed at them and the trigger-finger slip
prediction in the preachin', predestined, so ain't on me
take it up with your deity, so Buddhists, take a seat
I'd take a throne 'cept I already earned one
contact high as I burn one source you say you "learned" from
as misinformation spouted to skies like geyser water
splash on the soil and soaks into your daughter
Miss Informed's son born prematurely with a gun
saw his own reflection, shot & shattered the incubation
lungs grasped for the plastic collapsin
as any air of self-preservation was absent
which occurs when home and cell grow synonymous
ducking the ominous, miss seeing where promise is
my promises kept long as true lies linger
accusing middle fingers include blaming the bringer
of such statements, state what I meant, changes daily tho
tho bribe they pay me don't dare dissuade my vote
slayed each note by ascending above the sky
boxers glove to eye, consciousness shoved aside
onto the train tracks, thought train remains stacked
derailed pile-up, ice grills: save your smiles up
for retirement, ecologist for the urban environment
ashen age phoenix asking where the pyre went
bright spot in a cold world, night spot with your ol' girl
tonight's plot won't be told but might rock what you roll
stroll hell with a swagger and heaven got my tag there
biding time til my shine spills on my assassin's dagger
reach the spot alone...missed call or delete?
float past possibility on inflated ego raft
ate what I shoulda halved with starving while I laughed
at canned laughter in attempts to make the past blur
missed deadline with death: writers block on the last word
cast third on the depth chart, I touchdown when yall are hurtin'
with medivac chopper, blades cut down your final curtain
scenery stands silent witness to false world you act in
scrimmage flip to real game and prevent D is lackin'
while MACin' is a game grounded in wanderlust
find a style, flex it, search for next to bust
next to us is my mic and your speaker
cept I'm the speaker and the mic is how I greet the
assembly, trembling, shook like Monica's lip
off the weapon pointed at them and the trigger-finger slip
prediction in the preachin', predestined, so ain't on me
take it up with your deity, so Buddhists, take a seat
I'd take a throne 'cept I already earned one
contact high as I burn one source you say you "learned" from
as misinformation spouted to skies like geyser water
splash on the soil and soaks into your daughter
Miss Informed's son born prematurely with a gun
saw his own reflection, shot & shattered the incubation
lungs grasped for the plastic collapsin
as any air of self-preservation was absent
which occurs when home and cell grow synonymous
ducking the ominous, miss seeing where promise is
my promises kept long as true lies linger
accusing middle fingers include blaming the bringer
of such statements, state what I meant, changes daily tho
tho bribe they pay me don't dare dissuade my vote
slayed each note by ascending above the sky
boxers glove to eye, consciousness shoved aside
onto the train tracks, thought train remains stacked
derailed pile-up, ice grills: save your smiles up
for retirement, ecologist for the urban environment
ashen age phoenix asking where the pyre went
bright spot in a cold world, night spot with your ol' girl
tonight's plot won't be told but might rock what you roll
stroll hell with a swagger and heaven got my tag there
biding time til my shine spills on my assassin's dagger