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Tue April 21, 2026 14:14:54 [ Login ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: [1], 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 ]

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Date Posted: 16:43:31 03/13/03 Thu
Author: OV@kil....the M@gniPhi$en+....of G3n@$ydE....one-Hun'ned
Author Host/IP: NoHost / 66.99.80.2
Subject: "I could still remember when being and emcee wasn't part of my life"...Ovakil....Free-shitt...Repost due to lack of feedback....with revision....ENJOY!!!


I could still remember when being and emcee wasn't part of my life
I was young and more concerned with learning to handle a gun and a knife
Fun for me was..Smoking all night... Rumbles and gang-fights
Seems that's all it used to be like Living in Chi's heights
In my hood street lamps come on ...Beams on glocks come on
Quickly Identifying peons..and poser's in uniform
The uniform approach was to tote ya toast
Or end up being prayed over in casket's whilst ya family sulks
Since a I first caught a lump in my throat.. I learned to revolt
Approach copacetic...Heat perched beneath lining of coat
I smoke heavily keep arms aimed readily
Ov@'s the best it be
Cat's 'll pay out they ass..for ingredients to my recipe
I'm just a regular cat...not to much for complexity
I break cat's regularly...In various states of SEVERITY
It's a must my character be seen with the highest of clarity
Opposer's get flatlined ....then we be donating they clothes to Charity
Back in those day's ...mom's was still recieving Child Support
Whilst i was grimmey ...and got supports from all kinds of sorts
I done been there before...did couple things twice ... Probally 'll do em again
Ran the SOLO mission's.. today's soldiers do with they men
---Imagine exchanging fire with many men when ya clipp hold TEN-----That type of shitt turn Young boyz to bitter Ass old Men ----Never had the nerve to turn my feelings into spoke words-----Only thing my mind heard...was Hustling on blocks and Smoke herb's---
Since I spoke my first written verse
Outta my shell I emersed
As my thoughts surf my brainwaves
Verbals rip up dirt on any turf
When rhyming it's crunch-time
Since learned the art of punchlines
Verbal acrobatics Crouch like Tiger's and Punch-mind's
At 15 teen became a Chain-Smoker
Of Flame douzha
Since then I bring horror to mic's like Bram Stoker
Punches 'll leave ya Face swoller.. than the waist line of Al Roker
If rap was a game of spades....Of course Ov@'s the BIG JOKER

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