Sword...
My mic is my sword striking and ignitin' a storm/ exulting my words to become a lyrical titan of lords/
verbal ballistics twistin and fightin' a war/sick wit the linguistics that exist the life of my core-im the blacksmith who sharpens the blade,darkens the rain/tossin grenades hittin platoons and bombin brigades/carvin' the way to burn a show like a arsonist play/its not hard to explain why emcees are needles lost in the hay/ concerned wit flossin' they chains instead of the thoughts in they brain/to market they name cause they fell in the moshpit of fame/ so the anger and raucous encaged often remains/to be displayed through the offensive range that slaughter and slays/ and what my heart has contained is deeper than the core of the earth/and the torture gets worse the more i explore in a verse/ scorchin the herbs to find the source of my worth/before organs disperse amongst the vicious torment of worms/fed on by serpeants and birds and my sword is perfectly curve/to mercilessly serve death to lost souls worthy to burn/ so as i urgently surge im transformin and turnin these words/into mercenary heat weapons to make the mercury burst. -my fightin weapon is cuttin, slicin,wreckin, and gutting/ my mic is extending percussions,strikin, bending and thrusting/ wit lightning sending concussion,i might mend and construct it/what i write is ending discussions,stereotypes i'm denting and crushing/-willing to rush in, bust in, slaughter, and kill/superficial martyrs and the garbage that spills/ and this mic is a fatal extension of my heart and my will/cause its the faucet that spills my toxic thoughts in this field/ and my weapon is often concealed but commly kills/with the amplified sound that the harmony drills/ like rough sex, so the verbal sodomy steals/your ears virginity as i nurture and father these skills/ i sharpen the steel on my weapon cause my mic is my sword/thats extending and generatin a voice thats fightin a war/ where ice is a norm, stereotypes cause the phototype to conform/so i strike wit the armament that guides the light in the storm/-i tighten my armor and stay sharper than slicin kitanas and bitin paranas/ i write and encarve the doom of a fool who fights wit the lava/ that spews and heightens the drama/like clothes im the type to get on ya, im the life this saga/ like the japanese strikin ya harbors writin to slaughter/cause my mic is a part of my tyrannic order/ sighting to conquer like pirates and vikings residing in waters/plunder and give my tithing to father sacraphicing my life as a offer/ instead of abiding the laws of a misguided sovereign/im writin my thoughts in a page the rage of a author/ placin my heart in my words, a sacred compartment/embrace and embark in this journey will i be forsaken, forgotten?/ taken and lost in the realm known as satan's apartment/i watch the sky as the shade of it darkens fate is upon them/ you cant escape from your coffin, im slayin so often/my blade has been arched in the perfect angle, the trait of a marksmen. |
uppin..for any feedback........
|
thats pretty good
|
pretty good but majorly dragged.............
|
Liked it bro, keep Christ first.
|
All times are GMT -4. The time now is 04:17 AM. |