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Omnipresent
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Political Awareness ( i know it's a lil weak, im jus tryin to get my name out)
IP:
Im just sick and tired,
of battling minors, unskilled wit no will, not now, nor never will, be the top bill, king of the hill, my rhymes so ill, they send chills through millions of minions, wrenching my words, searching for instances, or references, of my lyrical preferences, this blessed kid, never reckless in rhymes, they’re speckless, enshrined in the enlightened minds, who can find the design and recognize how fine these lines are organized, fantastical skills, meant for fables and tall tales, flow like a gale force wind, forcin my way in-to minds, to dispel many lies, propagated by pride ridden leaders, who take bribes and cheaters who fake lives to meter reality to readers of magazines and eager-ly appease the controver-sies that arise/ cause they give rise to newly contrived public views of their vibe/ an allusion to prove the true nature of elected traitors/ betrayin the union, and provin the delusions that we possess of what’s best for our nation’s success/ smooth talk to comfort a rickety walk/ teeterin on the verge of slippin, rippin our people apart/ the wind is shiftin, and the fog is liftin, people finally seein the true villains/ im no anarchist or activist, but id rather kiss an ass, than see a rat bastard lead, anymore and I’ll concede just believe/ id breathe more easy in Calgary or with the Swiss Calvary, an amalgam of fallacies, have my trust atrophied/ ironically though I love the red white and blue, no other country means more to me than you/ but please pursue better approved methods of rule/ true democracy, a utopist society, screw it! who am I kidding I love the drama, the violence, the baby mamas/ the scandals, wit Kobe and Bambi, I love our dysfunctional families/ our homers and al bundys, our TV system’s lovely, our existence is ugly, but we’ll fight wars for oil before we give food to the hungry/ well stay sippin bubbly, cause we love the way we are, complainin about life to a beat and some mellow guitar, besides nothing’s perfect, and if it ain’t broke don’t hurt it, don’t like it then desert it |
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