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Old 04-26-03, 01:16 AM   #1
zakariasis
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critique space available

IP:

can sombody critique my shit

Im just a white suburban prick, wimp and timd gimp/
yet equipped wit a brick, pissed and lookin for a tinted window on some limo to hit/
hyper hooks on phonix for rhymers
simon on the cypher says to sit as I sift sick shit with fingertips quick like typewritters
fighter for bizkits harder then limps flintstone bitchkid
tones prone to exibit limbs horrific, put terror in iffic, specific
in the zone to script sins
later in livin im singin my arms off thinkin id be admitted in heavin
better off leavin, cannin ball fall to hell like jack does to my bladder gull
along with a swell jack and a mad man mr adam samuel
as a captain im rappin, cheefin sorts of some,sippin morgan rum
heefin tonz till organs are slippin from their orgins hence they come
im never forgin, but in the forest with barrals of poisinous porage
next door to the morgue with a sword, hordin a corpse wit horid infamous text
high off inhalence of insense and a pressence of intellect
a false-factional, unpractical, textactical wholl grab your skull
withdrawl in paragraphical interest, a word terrorist whos funds are limitless
who thinks suicide is slittin somone elses wrist
and scianide combined wit homocide in a tube to test in my brain exists
im spittin ignorant cause shit, ignorance is bliss
and my surroundings reak like fish
americas legs are open and creeps an itch
infected and keeps the peeps in the pens
like sheeps leg of lamb the plot in the pot thickens
but damnit
im into cracked out skinny women on pot and kentucky fried chicken
a fetish for a pale toothless bitch, sighns a leo
to shake her a-size tits in my no profit video, holdin my wallit,
heavy low
oh, only if monolopy money could buy hoes from pimps
rockin a $25 lame chain I claim I cherrish
these fools so careless, but less then me once
my body left my head on the buss and ive had to scratch my nose for six months
dizzy and dillusional from toxic blood loss
but busy as usual with logic beyond soft
im switched off, i opt to beat you to a bloody pulp
I gulp a screwdriver, sayin to myself "If o.j can do it spiked so can I while whiter"
while wearin gloves that are snug, beatin up thugs as im in jail
my face pale, a protein trace of D.N.A to take away bail
in my case i failed to burn the kitchen table, and the ladle wasnt able to remain untraceable again
when I broke the glass at zales
i was finally the girls bestest friend
but I protest females feenin for funds spent
pitchin a tent for a women sent for more then my cash flow and cents
im kryptonite in tonic for any alkoholic clark kent
admit strobe light like strategics to leave competition parapalegic
well buttheads but street skill ill kill you beavises
still with a meat clever and means for deemin a misdomeaner
phatter the missy but cleaner then lewinsky when bill wouldnt beleive her
im an over cheefer, under acheiver
smowkin reefer on my hands on the grassy nole unsober
searchin for four leaf clovers
im not irish but i need some lick, weedforbucks, fuck the speedin trucks filled with cement bed,s runnin reds when im a decaptated limbless torso stuck in this intersect
im amazed im blazed and drunk in a world thats already crunked
im just a suburban punk
with a styrofoam cup, half empty, wakin in familiar places to see if people recognize me
urban shmuck, swirvin a stolen porsche, with somethin in the trunk, in a preserve thats burnin up
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