Phenom | Kingz | Dabatos | TonySelf | Tha Q | Half Breed | Tito | 7th End | RV Radio |
01-05-05, 10:22 PM | #1 | |
New to RV
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Pen in My Hand
IP:
I been shiftin minds splittin spines and spittin rhymes
To lift the load to get what I feel is mine But I got a cloud of doubt stompin it out I got apprehensiveness that screams and shouts But without, my vision and verses, Livin is worthless unless I'm given a purpose Creatin a style to work with as I'm fine on the surface But my mind reminds my heart how much things can hurt it Philosophies, thoughts, dreams, prophicies, shots, screams Haunting society and me as I wait to internally bleed This voice inside my head needs to hurry and leave This venom need to seep, this danger needs to feed Upon the souls of my enemies yet I'm friendly at times Until someone takes a step across that enemy line Imagery and cyanide collide twistin and shiftin inside 2 Faces unite under the same title Both waitin to be put on paper, yet im expected to be the writer One minute its purity white lights and certainty Next minute hurtin any walkin form with stealin their security These lyrics are my escape, you hear it and think I'm insane I carry no guns, no money, no bling I carry this pen and a notebook, deep in though and hoping The sidewalks are gray and the sky is blue The grass is green the sun's horizon is quite a view And there's color and life in me cause I'm a poet Yet dark and light cancel eachother out, incase you didnt know it It's a prism of expression, a division split by obsession To be the most lethal and advanced lyrical weapon Yet still I'm driven to do what what I was destined Which is preach to this world, my beliefs and my theories It's still sayin Chingy isn't hip hop when I need relief or I'm weary And apathetic bout this drawn out earth, it dont revolve round the sun It revolves around materialistic worth, and the blade and the gun Or the lack of such prestige Corpora America shot its self and gave the kids a disease Flooded and trapped, faces enshrouded and vague The country doesn't have pride, its got doubt and mental plague Well I got a pencil and page and a fistful of rage I hate society and society hates me But I can get back at em and myself with the passions that made me By defnin when Im rhymin the threats to my safety Polution, drug distribution, Usin media to let talentless losers to make money through it Hip hop is danglin by a minute, embodiment Of real emcees who would write all day just to die for it Its construed misused raped and stapled to money, made ugly By these greedy self enfatuated pricks Makes me wanna burn my radio television and computer for a quick fix My mind can't escape hip hop blasphemy The lead is my only defense against this catastrophe When I drop you see, I'm pop's enemy stoppin it properly Passionately, to those of you who deserve to be thrashed by me I owe you some gratitude to be true and to address you aptly You fuel the fury that keeps my mic presence happy And lastly, to you so called haters who misunderstand It ain't your fault, your ignorance is your escape from demand And you're all left wasted cause you tasted this pen in my hand -Chaotic Stealth |
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