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Tue April 23, 2024 06:21:44 [ 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: 23:52:05 02/07/03 Fri
Author: Warpath "The scorned soul of ELOHEIM!"
Author Host/IP: ppp-67-37-64-247.dialup.sfldmi.ameritech.net / 67.37.64.247
Subject: Just VENTING but watch out next time it might be about YOU! "MY FEELINGS ON ALL YOU WACK RAPPERS AND SO-CALLED EMCEES!"

Fa-mili-ar ang-u-lar transcending ascends of spec-tac-u-lar bars
Bend jugulars far from necks pressure points decked so far in
They permanently indented into firmaments of bone cartilage
It’s sick; you’ll be walking around pissed for days upon decades
Looking strange children laughing acting like u’s a clown
Playing jokes in the local arcade, “you aint phased?” iight then
Lets dig deeper you get clipped instantly grip growing pains
Like Michael Sever, doc’s stretching part out trying to get the
Ox out, you couldn’t battle with a toggle switch you looking stupid
With your bitch, pushing hard as hell on it while she barely touches it
And gains access, you a walking embarrassment getting pummeled
By stones, walking with a Walkman with no head-phones-
Your voice sound stupid on microphones you’d better switch
Professions my tones shatter your rib cage knocking out all your bones!
You’re just a clone of a wack emcee, spitting to jungle beats like Reggie
I’ll battle your whole rhyme book and have you looking burnt like Freddie!
Steadily live while you resemble cadaver hides, I’ll punch a hole
In your Head and pop out your eyes, skull fucking your cranium tills you
Feel me Cumming dripping out your ears hanging like computers on stand-by!
“Who told you, you was nice? That’s a damn lie!” see look at you, you mad
Asking for time to get your heat out your ride, shit you wanna gun-battle
I’ll leave you fucked up like bad directions, touched up with tips
Till you feel knowledgeable about my impressions, “fucka you besta give up!
“I aint scared of you mutha-fuckaz, it’s time to wake up!” I’m iller then Em
On hydrogen with mini-thins and volumes and mushroom caps added to the brim!
Soaking blunts in honey and Jim Bean asking for directions to Amsterdam’s highways!
I tote them magazines that leave your parents mad at me,
Cause they got them deadly clips not the type that rap about Grinding they the type
That assault Malcolm and Martin Luther King, Kennedy to Abraham, Tupac to Biggie!
You’ll catch more then a drift you talking shit about P- I’m sick of these
Wack niggaz stealing my light I crush “archetypes” and DATE the remains
Necrophilia temptation you’d better hide your pain- I’ll fuck you up
Till you can’t walk straight I got to many styles you’ll be scared to guard
Your FRONT cause I can see through profiles- these kids aint ready “run!”
Little teddy the streets aint safe I break hearts like Tom Petty!

R.I.P lil' Shawn

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