published on
RELAX AND TAKE NOTES,
while I take tokes of the marijuana smoke...
røse.: you fucking idiots
face the insidious viciousness
and limitless ignorance of an imbecile child
wicked and foul, flip any vowel
with vigorous style, they can't get ahead of us now
wow, who can step to this--is this where the exit is?
birds: this is dramaturgical analysis;
turn attorney to masochist
with a massive acid hit—
and that’s my pitch
—my platform,
zeros across the apgar
heroes that fuck on crackwhores
rippin' flesh getchyo tats torn
røse.: rebound off the backboard
you lack form, I'm barely warm
wait 'til I get hot, shoot like Hitchcock
a monster of the loch, unlocked, they'll need a smock
for a murder scene of another freshman magazine
I'm too clean--with a scalpel, like a Ph.D. of neurology
frontal lobotomy, rearrange your psychology--
come and witness this ludicrous lyricist, who is this?
a circus trick that amuses kids, the fuse is lit
birds: chronically obtuse,
the bubonic plague of the music shit
let the truth sluice on the youth
‘til it prove the usefulness
If you dispute nukes
be astute in refuting pertinence
whichever way interpreted
you just irk ‘em with worthlessness
pick a pattern fasten ‘n straddle
before dispersing several curses
and affording poor disheveled persons mercy,
put the floor to pedal workin
with a fork in metal curtain
would’ve warned ‘em but in
lieu of foreboding he blew a circuit
røse.: reading cursive from the nervous urgent nurses
who read the verdict, the vermin worsens--me versus
every serpent that's a perfect person on the surface,
the worst is--artificial agonizing artists who's part is
to remove the heart that's in Rap and R&B
but they ain't as smart as me;
to see the phony fallacies, it's hardly a tragedy
disarming these fake emcees, they tempt me to squeeze...
birds: tendency for twistedness
typically lost in Star Wars
words he spit blister and rip the
paint off a barn door
strafe with the fucking blade
lemme get a taste
get erased when I make a stain
you should know ya place
with hyperbolic attachment
I slaughter all of you faggots
make ‘em fall like the foliage
they as tall as Napoleon
all this odious energy aiming
up at Odysseus, putting only
the flamest of buds in my
blunt when twisting it
røse.: I'm the Capo, the captain
I ain't cappin' when I say I slay Wisco rappin'
as it's happenin', that's how it was imagined
with no compassion, I flatten you
with a bashing action 'til your eyes are black
and I'm maddened by my passion
havin' the magic gadgets that are fashion
turn you into ashes, toss you to the masses
hope someone catches, stupidasses
movin' slow as molasses, you don't
need glasses to see the mismatches
flashin' verbal axes, I hope your car crashes
- Genre
- Hip-hop & Rap