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Tue July 15, 2025 00:54:34 [ 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: 18:40:09 02/11/03 Tue
Author: Pat D.A.W.G
Author Host/IP: host-209-214-169-180.sdf.bellsouth.net / 209.214.169.180
Subject: Been busy, heres a quick piece for yall, Had a joint back in 99 called "my religion is lost" and I never finsihed it. Had me thinking and I wanna bless ya with these words ta stimulate ya soul.

I close my eyes ta hide the evil that lies ta me inside/
deconstruct my self where's the wealth from my efforts I try.
Cry,silently violently lashing out feel the Dawgs bite/
pushing my buttons cats bluffing, I'am crushing loves of my life.
No more appatite for the light love for the dark add the spark/
meloncholy bliss pissed in a puddle of hate slowly drowning my heart.
I push rhymes as I try ta pry off the cover of my chest/
tear my insides out erradicate the vibe of despair and ressurect.
Gotta keep my head up ta get ahead but feel like I'm running on E instead/
The sound of joy young boy rushed to a man ta decipher God's plan inside my head.
Hyper printer press pens on pads ta shatter emcees that don't keep it inner/
it's not what ya feel signed, sealed the deal as ya fate hop hop veiws another sinner.
Writing these dialouges make me feel like god u have broken my laws/
thy has ignored the elements, ignored self with social relevance, forgotten a cause.
I holla for that top dollar wit caloused hands dug deep in the dirt/
searching for the next soulful treasure elevateing ta see my worth.
I despise current mandkind swines love of wines, shines not of the mind/
I let it bring be down muffling my lyrical sound reconstructing myself past limits where we spit but not as a febale design.
Militant minded mans rewinding back ta days of neanderthas/
society trys, society lies, but really can't recall our cause.
One many army harm me I will no longer backpedal from my vision/
rhyme rebal sent from heaven and cast out of hell god said tellem what they missing.
Is it still for the seeds or the economic need for cheese/
mice or men? My pen causes ears ta bleed let us see
the emcee pat Dawg will recognize the need for his deed.
No longer a passionate hobby, I don't want ta rasie the body count/
vocab attaches toe tags ta skilless fags who look for a dick ta ride/
if u want something ta ride keep it right, know what ta abide by/
it's okay ta swallow ya pride and let shit slide/
still need a ride? open ya mind catch my vibe when I enscribe these rhymes.

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