Friday, May 16, 2014
A Killer. Know... no boundaries,I'm peeling the skin off of the bones. Anti social, so I'm often alone. And suicidal, doctors say I'm hospital prone. Need prescription to Zoloft, as I walk in my home. That's where the obstacles roam-- around, like they're lost little souls, that float around like the black dots in my ocular zones...!!!!!
My sets iller. A fucking zoo. A bunch of net Guerrilla's...
war bound.. that's metaphors, wow!
But how so? Cause I'm bound! Tied down to the cross roads.
Colossal. Head made out of Dinosaur fossils.
fucking nose so big, you can see inside of my nostrils.
Notice how my brain operates.
Dropping tapes from a 4 walled room, with no windows
-- you can not escape!
Crooked I skill, hoping that you got it "straight".
Hooked, without the narcotics, mate.
But yeah, highly sought after.
I swear, I'm hating you 'pop' rappers...
Specially the murderous youth..
You sound "corny", but I realize you're not spitting a 'kernel' a truth!
So yeah, your grassroots movement is perturbing the root..
Directing such angst and animosity; I'm determined to 'shoot'...
You vermin. Watch you squirm for the booth...
Guess you haven't learned, the recruit is serving up
high caliber Pi's at you, bro!
So if I catch em' in the radius? The family
mourning em' will have to have the Casket clothes...
Like they were worrying about the attire when he was latched below...
An asshole though.
I write tracks of flow.
On sight... make it theatrical, like a Roman Polanski show.. a rancid slow
Manson blow. Tex Watson with the syllables.
A Killer. Know... no boundaries,I'm peeling the skin off of the bones.
Anti social, so I'm often alone.
And suicidal, doctors say I'm hospital prone.
Need prescription to Zoloft, as I walk in my home.
That's where the obstacles roam--
around, like they're lost little souls, that float around like the black dots in my ocular zones...!!!!!
Wow, relax Celph; does writing a track help?
In fact, no. I'm spineless.. cerebral intact though...
Which is ironic, cause with rap, bro? I'm taking the "back" road.
Like I'm looking for that hole... in the ground...
No use in controlling it now..
Yeah...the omen's around...
St. Nicholas ... is Caucasian's fucking ridiculous.
Just think of this: Hebrew. Yeah, we knew!
And yet, we think it's crazy Tom Cruise's talking about Xenu.
As religions fight for historical accuracy.
Based on stories written ages ago. Basically pages
of blatant statements that go:
"Two of every animal on Noah's arc"... Red Sea
thrown apart. Napoleon Bonaparte.
What do you know's art?
Socrates, Aristotle, Plato's a start...
Back to Galileo and the heliocentric...
Yeah, I MC... but to me, we see history's
a key to opinion, with feelings against it...
Penny for a thought when what I'm seeing is cents less..
We believe with a vengeance.
Figuring religion is the key to the entrance.
Different varying forms, feeding a death-wish...
Charles Bronson bar toxin.
Shadow boxing with my entity, wasn't meant to be.
Darkness, the shroud of doubt that's resenting me.
But I learned that in Middle School...
so it's Elementary, mentally, to tell me what's meant to be.
Like hell. I write like the white cells, fighting infection..
Fucking keyboard actors lacking all 'type of direction'...
This microphone session?
No hype. I'm contesting... in the booth,
like a confession, while trapeze walking virgin territory
for a 'tighter' connection...