G.h.o.s.t.
 

title track from my upcoming text album... written through my alter ego Ghost Emperor, check it out and tell me what y'all think!

(carry through from intro, evil laughter in the background, MUWAHAHAHAHAHA)

Chorus:

Who grills bitches like a roast? …GHOOOOOST!
Who’s the dopest lyrical host? …GHOOOOOST!
What emcee’s too true to boast? …GHOOOOOST!
Who does this whack game hate the most? …GHOOOOOST!

Verse 1:

Yo! Say hello to your miracle host, the empirical ghost
Stackin bodies not toast, deal shotties and stamps but no post
Course I don’t mean to boast but poetically I’m the most
Dopest thing since mud wrestling and rapping coast to coast
My forced nation to nation vexation is flamin like pot-roast
Though mostly I lay low like Shaq’s rump guarding low-post
I battle foes, rows and rows of those wannabe rapper clones
Strike my victory pose every time I dance on another one’s nose
Ready to jump and flow, I bump and go, always keep it pumped
I boss around like blond secretary’s on a manager’s stump
Dump whack rappers in the endless sea of mainstream
Critical for foes like the A-team, expose flesh like a gay dream
Kill unseen if need be, feed the needy with a killer’s keen
Emperor reaches into your ream, snatch ya soul with a beam, evil gleam
Nothing’s what it seems when I lyrically rip spleens
Place heads on guillotines with an inbred murder gene
I expose drama queens cos I’m rightly nightly deemed hip-hops dean
I’m plasticine: I plant bombs, bursting temples and veins like creatine
Norateen rock-hard, don’t start, meanin only on those tryin to intervene (Careful)
Ghost’s a lean, mean killing machine, always ready to blow shit to smithereens

(HAHAHAHAHA)

Chorus x 1

Verse 2:

The common haters have a fraction of my skill like a denominator
Yet I try to be a smooth G not a newbie terminator
Doubtless, my acceleration is incredible, the mic always in full vibration
Countless, Ghost’s iteration puts the whole game in gyration
Patience, the occasion will be spoilt if you toil with this full body sensation
So get your notation on rotation for the inevitable loss of information
It’s a probation, pure rap adulteration but vital like fuse-box ventilation
Breaking of convention, an elation, I filter society like light titration
Scrub out the real rappers from all those tall-taled liars
Dire, many-faced like Mike Myers, the innocent by-standers and criers
Couldn’t come close to godly if they all became friars
I don’t admire rippers and biters, so please do me a favour and retire
You ain’t having a “good year” hoes, I heard it through the wire
Rips cut worse than a rose briar, I’m above that, way higher
The Emp’s insane but I rock mind grain like I was every brain’s bane
I must be Citizen Kane the way I rock the show, my flow brings pain
My mic and me? Inexorably inseparable like Tarzan and Jane
McClane antics, fools diss me and die hard, get pierced like rain
Reign of the Emperor and his minions has only just started,
And all those who still don’t get it just must be musty and retarted

(HAHAHAHAHA)

Chorus x 1

Spell it bitch!

G…..
H…..
O…..
S…..
T…..

Chorus x 2

(explosion, fade to track 2)

DAMNNNNN dat spit was tyt yo keep it up

uppin for more feedback

thanks