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(F.I.S.T) Kontact High: The Rebirth
IP:
Two Souls That Mingle Within One Body, The Whole Being That Of A Universe And Beyond . .
Never Seen By The Eyes Of Mortals, Never Touched By The Hands Of Immortals . .
They Float And Destroy All That Is Within Decentcy . .
Determined To Preserve That Last Drop . .
Make Everything Add Up In The End . .
To Give Everyone Around . .
A Kontact High . .
Domain 9
Bum, a bottom feeder I'm so low yet always "High"/
Walking yet always caught up in a random drive by/
Killer with fire in my eyes as I stare through my baby blues/
Pissed without a pistol so I threaten everyone with a noose/
They say I have a screw loose but the ones in my neck are tight/
A nomad wandering free baring heavy burdens and traveling light/
Nothing goes right so I make lefts to realize I left off where I began/
Fed up and making a stand while reconsidering on the other hand/
Yet on the other hand I think I can but on the topic at hand/
My lips are sealed and tongue tied with munchies taking control/
My eyes are peeled with a glass eye as paranoia seeks out the mole/
I sold my soul to the devil to buy myself an ounce of angel dust/
Building a monopoly while a member of the board for anti-trusts/
Joined the Peace Corps for 2 weeks before getting kicked out/
For using F.I.S.T. in a violent manner and a guy with a Lowd Mowf/
Lowd Mowf
Kontact With A 'K' But I Kill When I See,
A Muh'Fuckin' Immitation Of The Greatest To Be . .
But Who Never Will, We're Ill But Lacking The Skill,
To Come Outta The Rabbit Hole And Swallow The Pill . .
On Chill, Willing To Serve In Any Weather,
Smoking So Many Treez, My Lungs Filled With Burnt Feathers . .
Together We're One, Seperated We're Ate,
Can't Handle Mono To Mono, Throat Closed At Debates . .
Thought The Series Wouldn't Be Back,
That's The Kind Of Wack Thinking, We Need Off A Track . .
So Pack Your Bags, Stay Here And Ship 'Em,
Bullshittin'?! Never!! This Isn't My Written . .
Listen, Explain The Meaning Behind "Fake",
And How You Ghostwrote For Me, So I Could Take A Break . .
Fuck-A-Kit-Kat, I Can't Afford A Dodge,
So Leave It To The Kid And His Best Cat, Like Calvin And Hobbes . .
The Mist Disappears And All That Remains Is A Mic Stand And A Lone Speaker . .
Both Caked With Mud And Resin, They Glow Unnaturally . .
Touched By The Hands Of Mortal Gods . .
Touched By One Being . .
By The F.I.S.T. . .
pz-x.
Anyone remember F.I.S.T.?
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