HipHop Lyrics:
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Forensic psychologist Samuel Dubois explains
"You'll probably never understand Germaine",
Incoherent speeches, puzzles in pieces,
The subchemical deepness of his glandular excretions,
Realms of Heaven and Hell, glowin angelic gel,
spliced wit' bovine leukemia cells,
Demons in hell they call to me, I scream "What can you offer me?"
They reply Techno-Sorcery,
They tell me the meek will never inherit the world cause they're weak
Standing on two 12 inch feet,
I dream quasi-Draconian dreams when I sleep,
A peyote leaf mixed with the blood of a priest,
In a room where the ceiling leaks a crimson grease,
Where the living eats the dead and the dead reek,
Rock bottom transforms human beings to beasts,
Why the fuck you think we got canine teeth?
It's the optical stimuli of watching men cry,
I hope I got time to repent before I die,
Bury me at the beach if the sea is outta' reach,
Cause when I speak what's fluid becomes concrete,
Like a falcon up in the sky at ten thousand feet,
Lookin' down at you bitches lookin' at me,
Phase shiftin' at 45 degrees, I’m too crooked to see,
I memorize the books that I read,
Sucking from the breasts of knowledge constantly weaning,
Unbeseemingly I'm a genius without meaning,
Try to visualize what Harry Whodini was feeling
Handcuffed underwater without breathing,
Near death on a fatal quest for air,
But why should anybody care? He put himself there,
His career was based on facing his fears,
To take destiny from the hand of the man upstairs,
He didn't mind the cold stares he got from his peers,
They couldn't tell him where he was going or how to get there,
It's better to be prepared and fail than to be scared and unsure of yourself and still get killed,
Don't rhyme like I used to but I still got skills, More than a couple confirmed kills under the belt,
Huntin' MC's like huntin' elk, camouflaged in the dense brush for stealth, determined as hell,
I don't do this for anybody except myself,
Stuff a muthaphuka like a trophy on my shelf,
Fuck the promo nigga I do this for dolo,
Flow from the first hour to 24 oh oh,
Round the clock long as I got a cup a cocoa,
But I'll be a no show if my girl cries "Don't go!",
And if she gimmie blow more than two times in a row,
I'd rather chill wit' her than kill you wit' a rhyme that I wrote,
Count how many mics I smoked, minus the goat,
Bus is dope, my battlin' average higher than most,
When I'm on the mic, I release fire from throat,
If you disagree please do it quietly folks,
Anybody better than Bis?... Must be a hoax,
Black man? NOPE, What about the Great White Hope?
What?... Man you must be sniffin' great white coke,
Don't you know that's like Gary Coleman fightin' the Hulk,
And still not even quite that close, a great white bitin' ya' rubber dingy boat 50 miles out from the coast,
What the phuk is the Mathers wit' you? I'll beat you black and blue, then I'll probably get a tat of you too,
Better yet I'll put a tattoo of me on you, a 10 by 10 "C" logo neon blue,
The most theatrical MC battle of all time, I rip jackers like you - you know the call sign,
The killer cobra that'll hover over Jehova, in a motorized autogiro with sycamore rotors,
Hydrogen peroxide gaseous vapors, Technically these words shouldn't even rhyme off paper,
In theory for every soul that can hear me I'ma blaze'em,
in practical practice my style’s even greater,
Can't you see what I'm spittin'? Can't you hear the difference?
Compared to me you're energetically inefficient,
You need 10 times the enzymes to process one of my rhymes,
you gotta' rewind every one of my lines,
Do you know how to paraphrase?
Can you even understand what the narrator is trynna' say?
The climax explodes - nobody can foreshadow my flow,
Figuratively the language is too dope,
Academic Journals print my lyrical quotes,
They show the parallelism in all the albums I wrote,
On any track I come off strong automatically
Whether I write in an active or passive capacity,
Poetry that I spit is synonymous to a glyph
Written on tablets of clay mortar mix, Superb…
Truly superb, analyze the words,
It's like observing the birds fly above the earth,
The Eye of Horus, the minature torii within a giant torus,
With singularity on the chorus I still sound enormous.....
Borderline insanity trynna' break through humanity's border,
With a new curriculum every quarter, I'm the porter to the portal of the secret Mic Club Order,
Baptize you wit' Jamaican white rum and water,
If you got 100 bars then I know you a warrior
I'll be the one that awards ya', and pins the medal on you,
Dedicate a song to you cause now you honorable,
Want a record deal? Explain the lyrical grand unified field so I can test your skill,
Do it front of the class, chart diagram it, write in latin not spanish gotdammit,
Step back so I can look at it, (speaking in latin...) ,
OK - what is this wack shit?
Ya' clumsy and dumb like a hand wit' 5 thumbs,
Welcome to MiClub - Curriculum 101
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