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Old 01-05-05, 10:22 PM   #1
ChaoticStealth
New to RV
 
Posts: 79
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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