Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Grunt

The kids in my clique spit blood from where I bit 'em Skin split, lines split, I'm a tick among the pricks I'm the liquor that they mix, the main artery, the fix, the black the mishmash the blue the green the black My dudes run hard I fasten tact upon they asses when my camp of irrational maggots got a task you know they askin’ where I’m at cause im nasty on the track Scars from damned pasts calluses from front to back, all the fams got friction and in fragments cause we wishing for a casket Spiked souls with hollow bones our organisms are imprisoned low-key recipe we concoct a new incision on the daily each wake just another fight, collision, so we gripe tight our visionary mission into schism I’m the pitch, the fork, the poise in a crew who plays it coy, I toy, I try, new kinds of mind tricks and odd confinements. Intense for we are guided by blind tendencies to abide in the vine, the ups, the spine, till we finally arrive back in time for we deny Welcome to my dome, come along or bring a friend Im an endless magazine of madness fashion and pretend, never led astray array of crews cliques are all at play fore in the land of flows without a buoy we relay take a break take a breath take your schoes off youll be blessed relax this mic in control and not confession, a professional sinner, aspiring existentialist, im fixed between the lines on my impotent addressing mess What dreams may come run away says my craze I believe in emcees but these puns make blunt my keys, I say or maybe grunt like everyday in generosity so you can hear ME n not just read between my cleave I crave a taste of brave wanna navigate the maze, so I praise the sunrays and bring the cool from out the cave if you follow you will pay for I annialate the bougeousie the neurons in my noggin rep the main without N A – no place to stay, no H-O-Mays, not even a wife to pull his chain, but if hype is what it takes then count the hollars in my prey tape Deep within the heart, nah, the soul is where it starts see mine on the wall, bulls eye like playin darts on the nose, froze ME stuck I outside the bright, for my seed My game my hate got cut short by weather frights never say your number one or speak of what came from above who deemed me to speak highly of the cunt?

No comments:

Post a Comment