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01-24-06, 12:25 PM | #1 | |
1926
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"The Lion's Den" ft. Mindless & Sharp.
IP:
Mindless
My soul is enclosed in skin and bones that will hopefully be ripped open by the lords that control this worlds jungle. Part of the golden cycle is to divide men who tend to end up in the lions den; showing them the privilege of spending energy fending off the so called enemy. Let them fall steady and separate each bend in-between heaven and the extreme, that keep sweeping our feet into dirt cheap beliefs that scream at the dreaming sheep. There's no need to be defending me while your asleep, leaping in deep deceit when every century God is sending peace. Atticus A steel rumble, thunder clouds peel I like the feel of dicks in my buts for real. Poors for sums, years, months more than normal under the Lion's gut roar. Our age old agony sores Muhabi pace, sand grain and shatter glass leash cages trace our path down the back allies of Main St. Ever cement born corner the mother land stands to repent the new world order. Lamp posts topple and fold, grip its handle and take position; Create gods great division. As that taxi cab's scowl begins to pronounce and its low pitch growl digs a hole, down in your soul you dance; Become a man, GO! Kill the beast, his heart will beat no more... For crossbreed streets have willed your sword. But in the plains great progression, is you, tangled in the old ways with dangling rules. Victim of circumstance is Sam the Libra. Wrapped down now in black and white slash, the hunt's contradict is new attack... The Zebra. Sharp My life in poetic aesthetics was never regretted, I am a phonetic weapon neglected by my brethren. Genetics invented me through immaculate conception. Relentless strive for perfection, nothing less than impressive. Fifteen perfect syllables for every line created. Sedated optic nerves leave no persuasion for evasion. Meaning that physical structure doesn’t affect the ones hurt. Verbal ruptures spawn on your esophagus until blood squirts from every orifice. My words morph into spoken bliss. “Tears from opened wrists flood broken fists of the Eternalist.” An abstract dumbass, not intelligent enough to gun blast- Or make drug cash. Incompetent fool, you shoulda’ just slung crack. You’re dissecting your soul with a spoon and have built your own tomb! You hung onto your faith thinking you’d be resting at home soon. But Hip Hop betrayed you and now planet earth is too mainstream. You’ll completely transcend the chronic clouds and Hell’s flames blazing Instead, you’ll be captured by vinyl tombstones and plastic plaques. An originator marked as a enthusiastic hack- Trapped by your own talents and legendary tracks forever Because you’ve showed more stagnation than these kids show endeavor. ------------------------------------------------ I replied to King Solo & Allik War's OM's. Last edited by Drakel : 02-03-06 at 10:20 PM. |
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