Skip to main content

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...
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

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...
Post a Comment
Read more

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 ...
Post a Comment
Read more

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...
Post a Comment
Read more