My (rap/hip hop) music has a lot of metaphors and idioms which makes it bedazzling to the imagination. The vivid imagery is compounded by a deluge of multi-syllable rhyme schemes that enhance the flow entirely. The unique out-of-this-world beats that back up the vocals make the compositions quite fascinating to listen to, and even though I created it I highly recommend it!
Yea. . i remember dissing a few old people in the front cuz they were looking at me like i was a rapper (therefore incapable), and i was asked to leave (not after of course)making fun of them using improvisation which froze their heads i.e. blew their minds because . . . it's impressive (not to mention they can't/couldn't do it even if they tried for the last years of their miserable lives)! .
J/K lmao
Eminem, Wax, Tech N9ne, Hopsin, Big L
A Reason 5 template and a blank 'sheet' of paper.
Fresh from the oven, /hot grease spatters the lambs/
I'm makin' a splash/hydrated with gas/light flames with my ass in a can/
Of *whoops*, lit up like the fire underneath me crappin' a tan/
With a snap from the branch/when it's zappin' the handle/I have on life like a flash in the pan/
I've a flask and some cannabis/energy's up eyes brightening/
Maybe that has to do/with the Caribou Lou/and the tablet or two/that floods white lightning/
Throughout my soul's veins, /cocaine locatin' ta' ho(m/n)e base/
Old flames/safe zones/in my own game/to showcase/donatin' my whole brain/
To go crazed/to know thangs/you don't think/would come back to haunt you/
To smoke laced/blunts roach spray/plus propane/hoods bagged up in law school/
Til 'em shnook crooks take oath to The Good Book put traffickers to push/
Half of their stashes/out to the masses/as the first allegations that they could hook/
You figure eights/shiftin' shapes na (na) I don't think so/
You reap what you sew/so shall you reap/bow down to the street like this ground's for beef yo/
Zip your mouths up/you dick-suckin' clowns/" *WHAT?*/what did we do?* "/
You made me proud to be an out-of-bounds boundary breaker *(ah) fuck it me too!/
Every day is just a copy of another and another as I/
Variate from a zombiesque defunct cliché to a lover not a fighter that I/
Can only be when I smoke my weed/got my dosage in me, a bunch of uppers and some other cap-sized/
Tabs I/brand my/madmind’s/last lines/as I/have my panaceas, / **GULP** that’s right/
Roll in thunder my abysmal winters filtered with bottles/
Now if I don't pick up my anti-depressants I'll have (some) bitter pills to swallow/
For real, I almost ended up blasting myself with the steel/
Another statistic man/in a histogram/on the wall of some office/wheel n' deal/
In' pills, psychiatrists/try to flip/my eye a lid/
Dull to make me sane to the state/shades of grey lose their jades/bidin' my t ime to death/
The fluids in my brain restrain/the usual drainage from mutual days/
Of cruel and unusual punishment/due to funded-mental roots I knew at eight/
Confusin' hate with the rules and the shame that the superego fueled with pain/
I knew what to make of the universe when the truth became "The Truth" it ain’t/
I felt humiliated, /I ain't built the same/but I'm still da' king/
Bob be weavin' the ducks souped up to compete for the muck's stump spud I'm a Fischer mayne/
Blaze you cooked bookworms while I cut da’ bait they'll anchor/
Themselves into my mind/identif’i’m pushin' spikes in their faces like Hellraiser/
Yell hater from hell/come hell or high water/my L's blaze ya'/
As I melt razors/my shells aim/'ta dwell safe inside of ya' jail chamba’s/
I'll serve time/servin' time, time and again/
Light years ahead/of the cutting edge/I rap it up in the nicks of my b-b-blunt thats lit red/
Red between the lines/as my frees stump/like tree trunks/light my weed up/
For the week/for the weak/you're the weakest link/genes strung/like they seams spun/
To your bones, /swami's calmy empathize/
Death from genocide through vehicles of death themselves driven to end this ride/
(Yes) - energize exercising our right to tilt what is left/
No middle ground/up it goes down/thrown into doubt/fight the self underfed/
By ourselves a perversion like what Ramadan is to Chanukah is to Kwanza is to capitalistic heartless/
Soft-a’-more’(s)eize in your submit tense at the/moment-’em ink-greasing-us to instinctively go retarded/
Like Clockwork Orange's main character [after his harness is lifted you can tell a]/
Lot of him's gone with the wind split the bottom of his heart [from the top of his cerebellum]/
Oooh, /noo, /another warblin' drone, /
Can't we all relate/freefallin' placed/in a pharmacist's goal/to mark-it a hold/
On reality, but factually, they actually practically/
Know nothin' about the consciousness of consciousness (so) thus they tactically/
Patent these drugs rapidly as a strategy for mentalities/
That have the universality of traveling galaxies agonied/
Unhappily ever after? not with these thirteen capasules unanimously/
Benzodiazapines/half of the reason/I've been seizin' the moments miraculously, /
In fact you can see it -thank(i)fully- when i smoke pif/
I hone in and focus on the notable -tranquility- no one notices I'm *gift-/
Ed, /I'm lifted, /I drift to the sky (then) beyond/
*I fly myself to the moon* "Hell yea! I'm known to "SuR[e] SMOKE A LOT!!!"/
