Showing posts with label Fidel Castro. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fidel Castro. Show all posts

Monday, June 30, 2014

I spit a reel that's sickening, fitting in puzzled thoughts inflicting more concepts than spinning a Rubrics... so, grin an amusement, hoe... Had infinite uses for kicking the tunes', chickens get use to.. The shit's a who's who of the written's, so listen and do you..




I'm free-balling, yeah.. Spalding, too much ass for me to call in..
If it wasn't bad before, it will be, after this scalding pot of lava...
tips the fuck over, n' you're sitting there.... feel the hot synch your
wig faster than Michael Jackson's pepsi ad... I get this sketching Pad..
Turn it up a notch... get fucking socked to your mellon, that...
is too compelling, a felon at the state - yelling at the gate...
Sugar free, my stature is saturate... tie you up wit' the masking tape....
at the back, bending over - homie, your ass gets raped!
AWWW... why did you go there? Because I didn't, out of respect to your
gay father... I slay daughters, lay em' under a bridge.
That's not a metaphor for any hatchet burying, but I burry the hatchet...
One Flew Over My Cuckoo's Nest like Nurse Ratchet..
You thought of infinity? That's cool, I'm spitting a verse past it.
Emerging victorious, and that's where the story is.
Notorious... look as this basterd, style's Inglorious..
The Bear Jew... with his ear to the wall like, "Bitch, I can HEAR you"
Better come out slowly, or I turn you to a hoagy.
All your sides come out, and I hit you a double bogey, 'o' meh..
And yeah, natural fire yo I haft a desire
a momentum building within me like the river raft of Messiah
parting the red sea... the art's in, every partisan said, b.
Yea, retarded with threads on the board's like marketing spread sheets..
Oh, fuck the bragging... nah, I've done that plenty enough..
Pen's destructive, sending you fucks honorary medical crutches..
Definitive reach, limiting speech recanted to primitive beats..
That I'm hearing... 6 Million Dollar Man, see the geek's engineering?
suffer speech interference once your dial enters my frequency
An evil man. I'm sorry, I won't allow you to leave, peacefully..
Unique MC's are cool, but I don't quite get the feeling of ripping...
It's more like a regurgitation of borrowed thoughts, they're re-appealing the system..
I spit a reel that's sickening, fitting in puzzled thoughts
inflicting more concepts than spinning a Rubrics... so, grin an amusement, hoe...
Had infinite uses for kicking the tunes', chickens get use to..
The shit's a who's who of the written's, so listen and do you..
Yeah... because I'M A DO ME... GRIMEY NEW KEY.. so envision that..
physicality with precision, where's the incision at?
Give me the scissors back! your shit's whack!!! FUCK YOU.
Bottom line's I'm the one you look up to.. makes sense
Sky high, see pilots as they fly by..
This is MY SKY... kamikaze you faggots, screaming out "BYE BYE"!!!
N'SYNC shit.. gonna jump into my time capsule
Make you feel like your putting, holding that 9, asshole.
My mind Castro... lines? Hasbro..
Play games, trying catch up to MY FAST FLOW..

Monday, June 16, 2014

So think about that for a second, I'm a practical weapon of mass destruction, latched in a jet and blasting over Castro's defense men...




I like sickness... I write with a tight fitness
regimen, I just get it in... no anabolic or medicine...
Trust me... hard in the paint, the bars are my strength... arms curls on the reg.
pick up a keg' quicker than ever...
lifting the lever off of the tip... Hugo Weaving, with a different Vendetta...
Holding the plane in the air, ready to balance it...
whatever the case may be? I'm thinking of this, waiting to land...
Anything feisty to kick this vacation off hand...
Time and space is the plan, I'm completely devoid of in between
Spitting off the top, going ham and living the sinners dream...
Then confession awaits.... I profess I'm a great, he doesn't listen...
Robbed of my goodwill, but if you see my content, there's nothing missing...
So think about that for a second, I'm a practical weapon
of mass destruction, latched in a jet and blasting over Castro's defense men...
My mental is an asteroid, colliding to earth when rhyming a verse...
And I'm tired, the thirst that's perspired over time is the worst...
You know? I got these migraines like, standing inside flames
Without a suit... Jack Spartan coming out the Ice Block
to face Simon Phoenix... yeah... the same effect... it hurts more...
All I see is more pawns that I can score on...
And it won't be before long that the resurrection comes...
And I gotta suit up my motherfuckers like Voltron...