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I today I woke up on time, pulled some stanzas straight from the tunnels of my subconscious mind spit them with urgency like I was Pablo Escobar on the 1976 grind from the underground, and you know when I’m on the mic it’s time to unwind took them quite a few years to capture and find the hidden meanings of these lyrics (vile) like they written in some hieroglyphics other rappers using dried out wrap tactics like medieval medicine – the solution ain’t blood and bile verses without substance like human without skeleton rap mummies living for money and gimmicks an unfulfilling lifestyle was livin in ethereal bliss, no limits, one could say like living by the Nile then life got wavy with age, like life was a Pierre Bourne beat, went wild I don’t got him on the track though, I’m just some up-and-coming rapper on the street, (yuh) so many pen-leeches these days originally puts me in the hot seat dicing all these mindless rappers up like I was Michonne wielding a Katana, when they step up to me, they face look like they just stepped out the sauna (yeah) or their psychiatrist’s office… apparently he smoked too much marijuana (marijuana) ever since a youngling they noticed he was a pen addict he ain’t bipolar but over a smooth beat it’s like he turns manic II now it’s midnight in a perfect world but as a child I was hurled by life’s stork into a world often like a cell, innocence unfurled and left him with troubles, and in many ways after the clouds of abuse subsided realize it all wasn’t so subtle like a 9/11 scenario no father figure sometimes by those you love blindsided men don’t cry in this society though, gotta smuggle them emotions like its Tijuana through perseverance, hip hop, and bands like Nirvana came out this struggle by taking a team huddle, kisses to my mama 95 till infinity now my verses pay the rent, (boom) then I switch the rhyme scheme a flower blooms in a dark room When I’m on the mic I flow like Devin Hester returning a punt, (zoom) “the 50, 40 ,30 ,20, 10”- Joe Buck exclaims as I spark up a blunt, travel to the moon to help harvest more rhymes like a young Egyptian boy in the season of Shemu mediocrity consumes the game daily like a Panda does bamboo I diss all these fake rappers in the game like Aristotle defied the sophists false reasoning I pepper the rap verses with historical references an intellectual seasoning real hip hop to the tomb, from my cranium to the paper genius secreting…

Copyright © | Year Posted 2021

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