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Old 12-12-04, 12:31 AM   #1
THE SCRIBE
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Posts: 19
From: QueensBoro,New York(KING OF NY)
The Five Boro's(New York Love)

IP:

Intro.shout out to........QUEENSBORO,149 ST 40'S PROJECTS
CORONA,QUEENSBRIDGE,WERE WE AT


Street hussla,the corner kid,hate and catch 20 shells in ya ribs
you know its crack,when i spit,on blocks wit gunz N filled clips/
drugs moved in now so you know its money to get
fake niggas got killed,soft cats ain't never sold shit.
i went from weed to crack,the d's watchin rats in the trap
snitchin on me got most niggas claped/
so when i write lyrics,its all real,cold N stiff wit true facts/
saw a body in the lobby,brains scattered,flat on his back
brothers locked up,left alone in this gully match.

embraced,with foes,fiends,niggas wit the red nose,i had blow
just moved it out it was june and i had snow
moms sendin no money,down in georgia,im in New york life froze/
my sister man,snuff me(what?)snuffed him face to face
thats my nigga tho,for me he had bushwick,down on willaimsburg
ready to spray,we don't play,im not on front street we got soldiers that kill sin and pray.
i was 17,with a reaper team,weapons wit infa-red beams
paid in full like harlem,merk niggas and leave the murder scene
so picture my rhyme scheme,a broke nigga house no steam(no heat)
moms on walfare,dealin with all the bullshit that i seen
MR SOFTY truck 24/ hours a day(365)get ice cream(dollar bill yall

im guess im reppin to hard,i love NEW YORK,best city by far
taste my bars lyrical or gangsta,can't fuck wit me GOD
ya niggas just rap,i lived this shit,where kids got snatched
death risin black on black,but now alls warin for cash.
can't knock em(hussle niggas)hip hops been placed in trash
from commercial flowz,but real niggas gone be taken it back

(just to speak on it)
mad niggas running around,putin my open mics down,
fuck the bullshit,ya all can hit the text ground
i sale ya souls like keys of coke,POUND FOR POUND

A MESSAGE TO THE COUNCIL,

nigga i flow INDEPTH simply the best,lyrical assault put castro to death,
explode thru your chest with rhymes,breakin your vest
brain cells ruined,i murder a couple pests
ya niggas don't want me to show like paitents at A.I.D.S. test
i'll break your neck,put you on a hanged by ya flesh
ya put words together,(plzzzzzzz)get put out off bizzness.lose your oil like HESS
im a pen to a blank page,i put rage on lines.
I SNAP FRAGIL MINDS,CUZ LIKE INSTRUMENTALS YA NIGGAS TO LACK RHYMES/

shout to the 5boro's NEW YORK CITY,QUEENS,HARLEM BROOKLYN.
BRONX,MANHATTANN.HOLLA BACK...REAL NIGGAS FEEL ME,OR DESTROY ME

Sin
The Scribe
__________________
Im A Poet,my mind is my materpiece
in lyrical warfare i show mc's the art of war

overral rec-19-13-12-
aka R.I.S.E.

album done-One Vision
2nd album commin soon/

think spiritual,and the heaven will come
and with that said you can never lose/

the scribe
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