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Fri April 19, 2024 09:11:41 [ 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: 15:54:11 02/04/03 Tue
Author: Pat D.A.W.G
Author Host/IP: host-209-214-171-45.sdf.bellsouth.net / 209.214.171.45
Subject: Its my 21 B-Day today and I just feel bumed out so heres a little slash hardcore slash vision. I call it "Overthrowing The Word"PEACE

I grab mics in sessions like a battle-axe/
swinging till a skull cracks choke'em wit they backapcks.
Man made mineral lead the revolution like a general/
governments get they branches broke pen strokes is critical.
Mass of many, the few the proud voice loud direct from the underground/
wave white flags wit elemnet logos full steam till the last blow man down.
Heads begin ta plot, coup de tat inner city fame rots/
kettles hot brew like maxwell goOd to the last drop.
Cops do the crimes but getaway wit out doing time/
no badge but lyrically I imprison emcees wit ill rhymes.
shatter glass jaws wit a knuckled up flow duck man/
or get touched in a rush cats battling me fold like a bad hand.
Aces high remember when i said watch for the lanslide?/
last days never step from the wars eyes no more sunshine.
Shackled to my desk wit feather pens casting worldwide/
Pat DAWG takem to the darkside staright head till the last rhyme.
crooked smiles catch a blow straighten out they vertabraes/
featherwieghts get flipped like a penny in these dark days.
Blood spilled on pages, mics, and cyphering grounds/
they get hexed wit the text before they hear the sound.
Beating down ya door like I'am tarveling lightspeeds on a steamroller/
similie heat holder get colder as the world produces another new order.
Determined emcees sitn on they ass waiting for the change/
go against the grain or get slainde by this emcee renegade.
I take these falicies by the nutz and bum rush society/
better up where I living sweet sining constantly biting me.
Generation X get lost in the mess of fake lyricals/
scrap a flow make a buck get fucked now all they needs is miracles.
Ya last hour DAWG gone sour my mind kicks wit raw power/
freeze lyricists wit cold schemes covered in the rhyme shower.
Catch the fire to ya head, catch the fire to ya chest/
Pat D.A.W.G rhymes never rest no more no less/
2nd guess ya calculations son before ya test THE ILLNESS.

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