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Mark Of Cain
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I had a little spare time to record a verse I had. So I did so. The mastering isn't great due to lack of time but it's ok for now. Beat by Arcane of Klassick Productions.
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Rapper with anti-religion, anti-establishment, anti-criminal and anti-life lyrics. What could be more charming?
I'm a 20-year-old emcee (21 in March) from the UK. I'm cynical bastard with no real discernable future - therefore I take out my anger and fury on the things I truly hate: religion, Tony Blair, George Bush, Ariel Sharon, dishonest people and lots more. All-in-all I'm an opinionated cunt with too much time on his hands.
Song Info
Genre
Hip-Hop • Alternative Hip Hop
Charts
Peak #6,019
Peak in subgenre #451
Author
Basilisk/Arcane
Rights
©2005 Basilisk
Uploaded
August 21, 2005
Track Files
MP3
MP3 1.4 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Story behind the song
I had once planned on doing a collab with my old mentor called "Were-icism" which would be about Were Wovles, lycanthropy, alchemy and such crap. Since the guy disappeared I decided to write a singular short verse.
Lyrics
Alchemist, I raise Hell in my apartment reading from Papyrus and an old parchment Speak extinct language, cowl of a Ninja teeth turn to fangs I, howl I'ma injure Foaming from the mouth my, body convulsing Black fur growing, multing, damp and revolting Mandible's extending, ears are mutating Brand new appendage, heart palpitations Contract cataracts, like black contacts Thumbs intact retract, abstract hunched-back My eyes glow Yellow like the leaves of Egypt I start to pray on, the lack of belief in heathens Move through the streets, while the moon in unsheathed Imagine chewing some meat and, soothing my teeth- but, I can not deny my blood-thirsty urges Present count, I'm accountable for about thirty dirges The cracked pads of a paw, collide with Asphalt Take a few steps to a man, and commit an assault Lunge, Pounce - Muzzle is gaping Drool dripping down onto flesh that is raising With bone-crushing power my mouth devours Finishing feasting, retreat and, I'm out for hours Wake in an alley, laying, pheatal position possessing no recognition of my nightly tradition Faint whispers of a beast, I hark in vain I'm a spark, a bane - the Mark of Cain
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