ILLigitt
I'm a 19 year-old aspiring musician currently residing in Leavenworth, KS. I've been rapping since I was 13. I sucked at it until I was 14 and I've been good at it since I was 15. I've fucking ruled at it since I was 16 and I started getting better when I was 17. I became so amazing that I required a human sacrifice when I turned 18. I turned 19 and still have not received what is now my annual sacrifice, so now I refuse to keep making music until someone appeases me. My penis is several minutes long, and I am un-full of shit like you wouldn't believe.
www.caucasianprophet.com
Lyrics
I'm dreaming of a fantasy world, where rappers would
Rather have talent than all the cash stacks in the world
You all are acting absurd, I appreciate lyricism
In every sense, I want people to feel
Spirits of tracks from underground with a 7th sense
And watch as they all revel in the relevance
Of something with real meaning, true artist development
I want a platform without media censorship
Masking ability, taxing ability
Tasking and asking, harassing ability
I need no cash or outlandish facilities
I'd give it all back before I crash the epitome
Because I ain't nothing but an imitation
Of the things I see around me in the game
People are sheep and follow without a question
It's indoctrination, hot product
And you might ask, am I Jesus or Judas?
Here to save, or do I speak the elusive?
Either way, idiots add to the puzzle
Just listen to your cardiovascular muscle
Which might be as deadly as a shotgun thug
'Cause neither can think, they just both pump blood
Get ready to jot it down when I state the motto:
Raw talent does not come in spray tan bottles
You gotta train the sh** , take criticism
And remain a brick in the face of sh** talk
Break cement, with the bark instead of bite
But bite behind the bark, 'cause bark get chipped off
War on a track, collat. damage ate the fair play
Bumpin' out 30 speakers to saturate the airwaves
Many, try, getting, noticed
But when I, bust, hold up, chorus
And this ain't nothing but an invitation
To the things you see surrounded by the pain
People are sheep and follow without a question
Let's indoctrinate from rock bottom
When I, bust, rhyme discussion
And when I ask you a question...answer
With complex, multisyllable lines constructed
At a pace of two metaphors, every four bars
For the time instructed, silence, f*** in'
Tupac minime's are a dime a dozen
You dap at the line, but it's probably you with whom
I'm disgusted, maximum shine
Is not what you think, a material attribute
Ignorance is usually the burial after you
Lookin' for outlets where you can speak about a battered youth
But the road to destiny is not a one way avenue
You're thinkin' that it is, a closed system world
That breeds the real problems you kill to furl
Instead of jammin' to the beat, cease and rewind
Listen to and think about the previous three lines
And f*** bein' fed on top of the fear panel
The world resides in the palm of clear channel
Take bad music and trade with hope
Maybe one day, with an underground radio...
