Long Rappers Poems
Long Rappers Poems. Below are the most popular long Rappers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rappers poems by poem length and keyword.
Come on down to Inclusive Town
We will throw you in by your knee or chin
Come on my friend, and you all are
Matter of fact,
Become our holiday star
Rappers, scrappers, mappers too
You are all welcome
Yes!
I do
Mean
YOU!
Come on down and pick up a fiddle
They are on the floor.
Also in a pile.
Grab one in the middle
Come on down to Inclusive Town
where the air is free, and the dirt is brown
Come barefooted, wearing your holiday tops.
The music is free, and it never stops.
Want to paint?
Easels are free along with paint.
Don’t talk right?
We love your “ain’t”.
Shoe-tapping music all over this place.
Inclusive Town open to every religion and race.
You have three eyes?
From a different planet.
This place is for you.
We’ll rename you Janet
Or Pete or Clover or Cockeyed Sue.
The main thing is, we are waiting for you!
Intro
Turn a popstar into a metal head… I’ma change the game/
Have a popstar rocking to guitars and bass… make ‘em bang/
Verse One
Popstars get tired of hearing that tune/
So they turn to metal heads and now they wanna rock/
With the best, and who the best, we the best/
We the best like a D.J. Khaled track/
And I won’t stop till my casket drop in the ground/
As long as I got a voice, you gonna hear my sound/
And I’ma put it down, and rep for my peers/
With nothing but heavy metal, trap metal in your ears/
I’m a metal influencer, and I highly influence ya/
Whole career and have you wishing you switched sides/
Now you working a hard 9 to 5 just to get by/
Your contract expired, they don’t want to hear you/
At your concert, they don’t wanna get near you/
Now you at my concerts, your career is dead/
That’s how you turn a popstar into a metal head/
Verse Two
Rappers wanna be popstars, it’s part of the game/
Popstars turn into metal heads, it’s part of the chain/
We bang and swing until we blow out our brain/
They copy and watch me. Now they doing the same thing/
It’s all the same game, we chasing the same ring/
But my league is different, we entertain the same/
I hit the stage, they scream my name, I’m the MVP/
And they envy me, because I’m who they wanna see/
I’m who they wanna be, a Pitbull metal head/
But feeling like a bull, because all I see is red/
And all I feel is rage, and you gonna feel my wrath/
One plus one is me and you, now you do the math/
My rhymes are different, my sounds are different/
My style is different and even Popstars feel it/
So, when you speak, hear or read my lyrics, you know the deal/
And when you speak my lyrics, you know just how I feel/
Hold your horses,
use all your resources
and force your thoughts
to not follow the course
that stigma endorses.
I figure I was sent
to present a different
style that you think is rap,
but rap is spoken aloud and vocal,
it serves verses in urban slang verbal,
this isnt like any rap I've heard,
for a start I'm using dictionary words.
You think rap is ghettos, gangstas, gats and hoodies,
while poetry is cellos, mansions, top hats and pretty goodies,
and rap isnt poetry but poetry reads like rap,
but you know to me this flow needs a new name so stigma is detatched.
If I rapped this reactions would stick as I'd look as stupid as rats,
so dont call it rap 'cus rap wouldn't do that.
No not at all,
this style is based around the bouncing vowel,
a sound that's allowed anywhere anyway around.
So hold your thoughts
'cus this mould is ought
to be sold as ROLLING RHYME.
It sorts and then reveals it's skills caught
constant in roll like a wheel,
with words written real
and a free structure to its build.
It's rolling rhyme
told in rhyme
that strolls and holds in time
and does not fold or decline
only to rhyme at the end of the line.
The rows flow with ease
and it's easy to read
free flowing and blowing along like a breeze.
Rap rhythm isnt driven
by the way the words are written
'cus when rappers are spitting
pronunciation differs if you listen.
Rap ink revolves around slang
but you think of revolvers gangs and the bang bang,
this is poetry, you know it be,
it's rolling rhyme this style of mine.
Somebody please tell me where we went wrong
how we as a people go from we shall overcome
to uplifting these ghetto drug infested slums?
How we go from dreaming about and reaching
the promise land to teaching generations that
for money pu$$y & power is what they
should take a stand for? since when was
the same streets that killed our
brothers & sisters ever worth fighting for?
what happened to rec centers &
positive role models? all I see now is
so called...real men that teach youngins
to throw up gang signs & pop them hallows
yeah that's the motto...marriage is a joke
nowadays we live in a day where kids
look up to d-boyz & self proclaimed gangsta's
yeah this is what Martin Malcolm & Nelson
died for to see you destroy the community
y'all the real wanksta's...maybe we should
look at them parents who thought they were
to good to spank ya! what because you providing for your immediate fam illegally
you want me to thank ya? But you know what they say if the shoe fits...wear it
most these people won't even look their self
in the mirror cuz the truth they can't bear it
I swear it everybody's glorifying these
rap stars like they the next prophet
I ain't never seen a thug wit skinny
jeans on man y'all need to stop it
looks like history is bout to repeat itself
just imagine if the hottest rappers & diva's
in the game started to lift up our
Lord & Saviour's name, Imagine if they put
down their diamonds & necklaces
and went back to rhyming & singing
bout some life changing messages
how bout if women went back to owning
their territory got off the block
and back in the household, Imagine if
these men were lovers of their families
instead of being disrespectful too the same
people that... wiped their ass feed em and
cleaned that nose Imagine if we as a people
went back to that mission
to following God's laws on Holy Living
One thing I'll neva do is provide a pre-packaged product for you
I'm quality food, so mouth shut, shallow and chew
Speaking in tongues. I came to shower people with love
like, you're not breathing enough, and that's the reason you suck
some cats can't follow me past the first line
too deep for the small mind
I laugh it up, no matter what's happening, I'm fine
just glad to be alive
focused, precise, and in total control of my life
you ain't nothin but a chump to me, just company property rap
I'm watching my back, burn bridges at the drop of a hat
ripping mics and living like Jesus for now
so if you see me in town, let me sleep on your couch, really
am-bivalent about the thought of fans listening
and watching my hands scribbling contraband images
yes, you are now in tune with the sound of poverty
album quality, straight to underground economy
you heard about the dirty weapons cause you never witnessed it
Imma human television with depth and vivid images
what's the gameplan? watch my ego do a faceplant
a chan, a god man, used to have a basic cable brainspan.
what you got, dude? nothing but a rhyme and a hot loop
and a promise you can stop it the second it's not true
now you rappers make it hard to believe in your music
I hear what you're saying, the problem is I see what you're doing
now if I bless the beat, best believe I spoke it honestly
because I know you're watching me like the flow was stolen property
so from all the love and respect to all the stuff I regret
when it's five o clock in the morning and nothing is left
no lies and no secrets to hide from those demons
cuz we live like dogs and we die for no reason
so strip the language away, the games that we play,
be creative and brave and drop some knowledge today,
with single moms living on some government checks
who struggle with debt facing a future that's nothing but stress
see, I choose to speak to those who truly need the food and heat
losing sleep while their favorite rapper shops for jewlery
kids who learned firsthand the truth is useless
going to school with bruises and a thousand smooth excuses
broken down for those who doubt the pain behind the music
like, let's rewind the tape so I can find the frame to prove it
WHY are those who have nothing obsessed over wealth?
WHY are less hospitals less concerned about Health?
WHY are the Homeless still Forsaken/Forlorn?
WHY the Great Earthquake which left Haiti to mourn?
WHY the fuss over Mexicans?...most do no evil or rob
WHY arrest and deport them?...just give them a job
WHY all the shows about vampires, werewolves and witches?
WHY are some rappers such retards, and call Black Women bitches?
So many people Unfaithful, yet, we're "Bought with a Price?
Then WHY krishna/Buddha, and not Jesus Christ?
WHY the murder of children?...this we can't get around
WHY Carly Bruscha, and Nix Mary Brown?
People running to mischief, it seems a pandemic trait
WHY senseless killings on The First 48?
WHY pools of Oil on the Gulf, which threatens those on the coast
WHY do they think their lives over, when still more Blessed than most?
WHY does a person never sick suddenly breathe their last gasp?
WHY are simple things in this lifetime the most hardest to grasp?
There's vast changes in weather, time to Pray and Reflect
It's a sign from Our Maker, not "The Green House Effect"
Without The Lord in our existence, we live each day as mere pawns
WHY does it seem we weep loudest before the Light Of Hope dawns?
The next WHY? an Enigma....requires deep contemplation
WHY did Jehovah choose Israel over every other nation?
Abundant things I can't fathom, though I ponder and try...
2010, eight years later...the question still remains....WHY?
The night jitterbug’s its way into morn.
The car seat’s awash in burger rappers, torn.
A lipstick stained paper coffee cup sits
precariously on the dash, backlit.
The windshield takes a direct hit
from a large storm-tossed stick.
Dana Scully, beautiful Irish lass
of copper hair and blue eyes looks good
even in the green light of the car’s dash.
A dog howls. Dana glancing in the rearview mirror
she sees Zombies rising the sound track reeks terror.
“Mulder…Mulder,” she whispers into the cell phone!
“They’re here….” She upholsters her gun, as she hears his tone.
Laying the gun on the seat best her,
she backs the car over the nearest ghoul.
From behind a crypt another comes
with a mouth full of cat and fur.
A car speeds to a screeching halt beside her door.
Mulder arrives, a bit late, but what are friends for?
Dana, heroine extraordinaire leaps from the car,
she covers her partner. He doesn’t have to come far.
Without a hair out of place or a wrinkle in her shirt
she saves Fox’s bacon and leaves Zombies in the dirt!
“It was the art of our words
made it too real, too raw to hold
No skin, no touch, just me and you,
connecting through the cold”
You the rap, me the poetry,
flipping lines, bending reality
Midnight texts, late night confessions,
we built our world in these digital sessions
No bodies, just words that kissed,
metaphors wrapped in lyrical twist
You spit fire, I bled prose,
two different streams where
the river flows
But then you disappeared,
like a ghost in the code bro,
no warning, no signal,
no way for me to know
You say I’m always there
inside your dreams
but when you vanish,
I only have a blank scene
Why do I ache for a place I never touched?
Showed my secret parts, was that too much
A part that aches when you disappear,
the one that types your name
in silence here
I’m strong, yeah, but see I’m human too,
and sometimes the nights get cold without you
I always hold my own, keep my guard up high,
but in the dark, at times I wonder why
Why does a ghost still feel like my home?
Why does your silence cut like a stone?
I ain’t begging, that’s not my way,
just wishing you’d hear what I don’t say
Maybe computer loves just
in the code,
but here I am, still writing ode
Soft don’t mean weak, and
heart don’t mean broke,
I’m Rebeltease, I’m love wrapped
up in loving smoke
I keep these words burnin’ deep in my veins,
lighting up all the heartache and pain
A computer love is felt deep to the core
Yet the screen at times leaves me craving more
“This is for the poets and the rappers
who meet in the dark,
for the love born in verses that
left a permanent mark”
Spoken warriors, with rhythm words as their sound swords/
A poetry slam where words and body language put the audience in a sweaty heap/
the spectrum of a creative sound off between spoken word poetry rappers and new time jazz hipsters
has the club bustin' to the rafters/ expressive improvised creative pace and volume on the spot word dance/
man, like a spontaneous mind flow composition
of rap talkin' men and women cookin' up a stream of a consciousness groove/ yeah/ like I feel mile high now/
iconic on-stage impulses of slant rhyme life spoken word poetry/ back-n-forth they go/ words in high gear/ pedal to the metal/ on race, racial slurs, sex, who's doin' who, drive Bys, and TV shows/
like words driving' at a hundred MPH/
becoming telephone poles wizin' by/
high voltage sparks fly when spoken word funk meets uptown nu jazz poetry/
African American poets along with Native American spoken word artists come together to duel it out in a Poetry slam/
it helps to feel the natural flow of high energy words in this performance poetry slam jam/
No reading from pages, just memory’s embrace/
save the date bro It's live with no rewind/
this slam is somethin' else man/
you be reelin' in the feelin' when this Poetry jam becomes a fusion of rhythm word speak on struggles, courage, dreams, love, hip hop rap, and using voice beat drum licks in between word spit speak/
a landscape of uninhibited words with body drum chest thumps/ yo, do you see and feel what i'm sayin'
the dynamic instrument of a voice workin the mic to the crowd with MCs shouting back at ya while you be poppin your performance skills on stage/
the interplay between the mind and free spirit WTF thoughts be burnin the house down/
who's gonna wear the slam crown?
they be back flipping' and word trippin' these slam poets/
trying to outdo each other in a face off/
word lyricism with scat rap concepts/
diggin' deep into emceeing the joint/
keepin' the flow and staying on the beat
i don't write poems like poets
or rap like rappers
i flow boats like rowers
talk what matters
wasn't raised on council estates
still a victim to down force weight
gravity pulls seeds from trees
it's a vertical growth without no treats
see how poetic wordings breathe
evading me in the verse and beat
as i rap beneath the expectations
a difference without explanations
tap my toes to extrication
set up camp an extra station
stuck with pens and pencils
this stationary cupboard ain't for me
won't buckle when standing tall
rising vegetation will reach the breeze
above and free
the highest tree
you be you and i'll be me
an artist of originality
harvesting brutality
I'll teach myself and I'll be me
and if you're you and true to thee
I'll see you and you'll see me
we'll be our own unlike the rest
and we'll be we, we'll be our best