Thread: God Quality
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Old 10-11-05, 07:49 AM   #1
BiZzO
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From: .::Aus::.
God Quality

IP:

i know its long, but it took a long time and its deep.

At a seemingly delicate age, I found myself developing aids
I’m the son of a celebate maid, with an irrelevant name
A scorpion’s telson rests in the place of a tongue
I love the taste of the suds, bathing in blood,
The human race is expunged now under the face of the sun
I broke through the deep end, you just take the plunge
The reach of a true poet extends to the sun, trenchant enough
I throw kinks with the strength in a punch to put a wrench in your gut
My creativity has yet to touch it’s highest of noons
I’m the presence of heat on the dark side of the moon
The words that ricochet are as sharp as the tooth,
You’re just barred from the booth
So many eons ahead, you couldn't be more far from the truth
I can catch any star as it shoots
Sap it’s magic, and throw it back to the farthest of blue
A wise man once told me not to argue with fools
but I'm wise enough to know that I argue harder than you
I'll run you through the gauntlet when you're already fatigued,
with a set speed of per minute a hundred and ten feet
I can concentrate on my left hand and trace a sphere with it,
I'll seriously beat you, and not even take you serious
I scripted God in Greek letters, with inked eagle feathers
Worth my weight in gold, without or with legal tender
I could birth sprites if only given the right spouse
You spit into Christ’s mouth, you spill blood, but live in a white house
I find that in my best form I’m leaving others spellbound
I conflict religious beliefs, and feed doves to hellhounds
The Judas priest in a bloodied shirt, with a pilfered collar
Ready to punch you in your mouth with a roll of silver dollars
I can appreciate the intricacy of an excellent rhyme
I'm a twenty, and out of ten I'd give you less than a five,
You're just a cockroach that can't walk into a setting with light
so, if the world came to an end, then I'd guess you'd survive
I spit fire, and exhale through about four lungs
So if I take a sharp breath, imagine my forked tongue
The coldest organism that can stand directly in raw light
My teeth are icicles, so you can tell me if frost bites
I can counterfeit your surroundings to undermine the truth,
The percentage of world hunger comes from what I've consumed
I'm purely dope, without artificial preservatives and no additives
Use trenchant verbs and adjectives to attack protagonists
I had to make it a habit to practice the stance of the mantis
So great that you can’t grasp the vastness, I burn fags with faggots
I only make toasts to guns and butter, one or the other
And I’ll kill you even with your head under the covers
Born to battle, war masks adorned with the horns of cattle
Storm a castle, resistance is feudal like lords and vassals
Too cold to pity the young, and witty as fuck
I separate the epitome from an epitome of
Can you survive? probably not, put you into bodily shock
I can narrate an odyssey given a modest plot
Rip any mutt of mixed race, your punches were misplaced,
I make a disgrace of you, and all you can do is diss grace
I made Icythys caviar, and ate him on a thousand loaves
I could eat the man in the glass house out of house and home
I introduce famine and entropy into controlled environments
Spread total cirrhosis to all habitats in coastal climates
Then, induce a lackadaisical fantasy through the winds of magic,
You’re more fucking dildo than a West Indies cactus
I’m the god of the underworld, and the judge of the dead
Cloaked in scarabs, I’ll kill Osiris just to hunt him again
I’m your worst nightmare on both sides of consciousness,
The stress of your main goal, and so little time to accomplish it
I'll rotate heads until neck bones shatter
That's the punishment for wearing your head on backwards
My mind is a million answers constructed in a prism
I could get Mother Nature to embrace industrialism
A real tyrant loves blood and the taste of the dirt
I'll break the fucking nose off the face of the earth
Baptized in the bays of Carthage, a man of war in a lake of starfish
Wretched fuck-faced harlot, go powder your chin you make up artist
If you send a letter to God, then I’ll promise to write
I could never lie to myself, and that’s honest to Christ



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