dropping the anchor. Fucking net heads, talk like a wanker. And sound like a fag, so when I spot ya, and pop my head out the top of my Tanker? There will be no off switch for stopping my anger!

I'm not mad at all. I'm just... taking my pent up frustration
for rap and throwing it at a wall, like I had a ball.
Feeling like Michael Jackson in this bitch; grab my balls.
If I had to ring it in? Believe me, I'd be to last to call.
But that's before. Tattered clothing, looking battered in war.
Stick a javelin through the adamantium claw of Wolverine
and watch Magneto stand in applaud...
I'm only a fan of the raw, unadulterated scholars
who use to spit on live stages and bust...
in front of audiences who craved it enough to make it
such a significant time in those days. I'm talking Scribble Jam.
But the evolution took it up to a bigger stand.
Figured they'd trigger plans to expand what we celebrated in levels, mate. It's... astounding.
Now fast forward it. Cash rules in rap offices.
The platinum certifications are like track scholarships.
Not hating or nothing, or making assumptions
I'm taking this once, glorious endeavor, to serenade it with substance.
You fruits? won't mix me up. You can take your high
fructose establishment, in stick it inside of a Dixie cup.
Cause this is what... I'm talking about...
Christopher unsure of his career, just Walken in doubt...
taking every obstacle out
of the Hurdles race before embarking my route...
No challenge. Juggling every trade... show balance, but with
more talent.
Ski high, waving goodbye to my co-pilot.
Crush your dome pallet. With a microphone now completely made from a chrome mallet... till your brain goes out it!
Yeah, mystical rap. That boom bap.
That, Sticky Fingaz @ the Source Awards, shooting the room
while doing a tune rap.
That 12 in the afternoon nap. Then make a kaboom that...
makes you lose track of the Daily News cap.
--tion on your tube rap.
I'm Hugh Jack. -man, I had to say that.
dropping the anchor. Fucking net heads, talk like a wanker.
And sound like a fag, so when I spot ya, and pop my head out the top of my Tanker?
There will be no off switch for stopping my anger!

Comments

So give me this ratchet, bitch. A prick, more than a Cactus is. I crack your ribs on the McDonald's Arches, so I can watch it split at several different axises.

LOL @ the dust around from the mushroom cloud crushing, wow! Fucking clown! Yeah, how does it feel to be under ground? (Huh?) Literally. You can't get rid of me. Every bit of D- N-A is like a relay of keys placed, for you to Freebase... on A destructive nature of touching paper. A victim of habit. Up in your head, cause he lives in the attic like Roger from American Dad, scribbling at is.. notebook.. with Rachel McAdams face on the cover... he's physically had it. Needs Zoloft to doze off. So his father keeps... given em' tablets.. He sits in the blackness, drawing pictures of catfish. Why? Cause he's miserable, and considerably tragic. If you look at him, his innards are like a miniature of sinister lashes. So give me this ratchet, bitch. A prick, more than a Cactus is. I crack your ribs on the McDonald's Arches, so I can watch it split at several different axises. I don't know what I'd do without this rapping shit, I'd probably h...

Give you parrots the cold... shoulder, wanna copy my talent? The trapeze artist so skillfully concocting the balance... I mean it's awkward, at how the kids come at me when they thought they can challenge... A beast who slaughters so regularly, a crew mops up his palace...

Time to yell, rhymes expel the kind of heat... That Satan couldn't handle in the furnace room, while he tried to sleep... I mean, venomous rage when this pen's engaged... penetration... his head's aching from all the fucked up medication... They'd never face em... why the fuck would they? Battle in hell... a pressure gauge of talent that's shattering wells... From a different planet, n' I must say that Saturn's swell.. I've had it, the smell ...of defeat in the cavern dwells.. I got an ego that needs to be popped, repeatedly... rock... your drive, I'm never parked, so why the fuck would I be in a lot? His stream of talent? well, it seems like a-lot... A genius, thought to be the next incarnation of Einstein with every line rhymed... It's my time, don't get clocked out... Fucking naked... baring my soul, it's apparent, I swallow arrogance whole... Give you parrots the cold... shoulder, wanna copy my talent? The trapeze ...

Tell Ebenezer Scrooge, if he seen these jewels? He'd faint, to the floor. I'm not quaint, see the face of your lord. Still writing pages on forums, n' gracing this board. Watch the impact break through the floor And completely shatter your foundations support.

Uh, fine cloth.... A superpower, if I ever combine my thoughts... From the punch dimension, like the Cyclops. You know the government's doing psy-ops... why not? When you can die, suicide, by Cop. Rodney King got beat in the street.... billy clubs... No way he could compete... He was walking around.... kind of shocked at it How... they warped his noggin like a flying saucer, 'cause wow It's a sight to see if you ever catch an "Officer" down... Nah, Officer up... you exercise your freedom of speech? You'll probably get jumped. Walk up to you with an overconfidence of a pompous Push your buttons, so they can watch you destruct... They're waiting for you to act up, you thespian you... However you do.... they're waiting on that combativeness to get you 'removed'. And I don't mean in the same way like you're obstructing a class I mean like an officer, punching through glass. Reaching his hand in your car window, n' leaving blood, on th...

NiceWithThePen

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