WRITTEN 08.01.09

You don’t gotta be an emcee
To decipher the difference between auto tunes and originality
And maybe then you could rewrite history
And not witness the death of creativity
Though you may not take it from me
But you can understand if you read between the lines of my poetry

Are you here to slaughter nouns and verbs?
Cause what pleasure do u get outta killing hip hop?
Your rancid rhymes and raunchy rhythm burns my retinas
Like chlorine from a pool
And in a battle of spoken word ill kill your words, bruh
Make ya vomit my prose you stupid fool

I aint as flowetic as ya boy jay-z
But im quick wit my bic when scribbling poetry
So before I slap your stanzas creating poetical violence
I’ll take a brief moment of silence

My motors always running cause I get shit to say
Get out the schoolyard kid, I aint here to play
Im classic like a rare sixty-nine mustang
Who spits poisonous ink nix the poetical slang
Im that light skinned chick straight out the Southside
Whose rough exterior makes for a pretty tough interior inside

Im full of that poetical aggression
Throwing poetical punches during this great recession
Watching the downfall of fake emcees
Spitting tired ass lyrics
Day after day killing the name of the game
Rappers becoming bitches getting on there knees
Begging can I get talent please?

These rhymes starting to sound like a broken record
Paying the same lines
Over and over and over and over and over
Again, ya feel me?
You would think demeaning the scene would
Be a true crime

The way the lyrics refuse to flow from non
Grammatical fingertips
Stuttering on the tip of there lips
Leaking foul ink burning lines of notebook pages
Killing the experience with the dawn of the new age
And I gotta close my eyes
So I don’t gotta see these bitches cry
And yo I won’t lie
This shit is fuckin killing me inside

Imma bring it back one mo again
And again and again
Skip the beginner rhyme book your stealing from
Take a look at the lyrics I drip
These poetical fingertips
Imt he rock bottom your laying on
So pay attention cause ill be gone for you
Can say im the world’s greatest emcee
And that’s not something
I claim to be,
In reality

So get your big head out of Lil Wayne’s ass
Stop sucking Soulja Boy’s dick
And suck my wet bic
Just for a minute

Take a moment of silence to mourn
The death of originality
The burial of a true emcee
Cause if your whack ass keeps spilling
Repetitive rhymes
.
.
.
We’ll witness the
Death of creativity