This is coming from my brain, straight to your computer screen// I'll spit something so memorable, it'll crawl and die inside your dreams// Or so it seems, the methods I use are really so uncouth// Like the president getting ousted, because he doesn't appeal to youth// I spit truth so you don't have to lie, or even deny// The feeling you get when you accomplish things, or when you justify// Just to get by, it takes a steady hand just to try// To live life, so go ahead and cry, cuz living sure ain't no piece of pie// Usually its cake, my mistake, but let me evaluate the circumstances, no more chances, time prances// Around corners of space, and leaves you with the case...closed...// I expose...the phony from the real// I can take one small fact, and blow it into a big deal// Cuz I can..tell me you understand// Like Martin Luther King Jr., I'll free ya, and take you to the Promised Land// Only if you follow....if you don't you'll get swallowed into nothingness// No lovingness, only rejection, hate, no protection, and left in the ruggedness// Of things, so fast, dreams can get turned into nightmares// The intesity of bright stares// The feeling that nobody even cares....you're left scared// Only the bare sense of truth and proof hangs in the air// Something that will hit you so hard// You'll collapse right off your chair// You might not have a clue where I am going with this// But if you can look inside yourself, you'll realize that, "Ignorance is bliss..."// It's the only time you see with your eyes, before distortion clouds your mind// The brain forms the imagery, but only the heart can feel this rhyme// So what's left, nothing, not one thing can escape my breath// That could sway you more, and give up your free will that lets you choose whats best// For you, no stress, it's like you trying to envision whats next// But if the hue is blurry, why not take a Color Deficiency Test//

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From beginning till the end/ Rap till I die and come back once again.../ - by me Flava

Whoo, that's a mouthfull, you love the infiltration// The way I "Play" mind "games", it's like ya brain left the train "Station"// - by Poetic Prophet a.k.a. Flava

Excuses, excuse this, while I abuse this, leave you toothless, and boot this, I'm Fucking Ruthless! - by Psi-Co a.k.a. Poetic Prophet a.k.a Flava a.k.a. Me