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Sun May 12, 2024 02:04:22 [ 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: 20:39:44 03/14/03 Fri
Author: ===||Swords--->
Author Host/IP: NoHost / 12.25.217.177
Subject: Large-Ass Cypher.. This might be your style.. Read it all, or just skip to my parts hehe

JOE MADD:

I was rappin about gats and ass before Adam begun to sin
My pungent pen’s packing more war stories than Gunga Din
With mic in hand I rely on semantics to my advantage
Blitzkrieg opposing crews like a violent tribe of Germanics
Ain’t it fun to be disgruntled?
As I lead legions of MCs down secret tunnels (to the underworld)
Toss my offspring off into the sky – watch me sun the world
That’s the method to my madness begun to unfurl
A wonderworld plundered by a wandering vagrant
Popping off poppies – what a wonderful fragrance!
See you can stick to your punches and braggadocio
And I’ll hike down the many paths that flow can go
See madd is earning grammys, the rest are just lesser thespians,
Fools get stopped dead in your tracks like sequestered pedestrians
unless you men are best of friends i consider you foes
for gays styles like big upping ya boys while belittling hoes
villainous flows like the tides of Poseidon - most stand aside when i ride in
fly when i grab the mic in wingspan and start to glidin
your smarts collidin with mine? the force of inertia will unearth ya
bequeath my mirror image freely to dieties...there's noone worthier
styles? never heard of yers...never even a word or verse
fuck sidelining your rhymes i'll curb your hearse with one verbal burst

I AM:

...Dropping Hard bombs, none of that Soft Shit
No charge for being ya GOD, my reign is non-Prophet
Get off it and watch how others are retreating, they nervous
Asking me for self help? you defeating the purpose
Eating as herbs bust, the recipe for soup is skill and You Taste None
Multiple personalities and suicidal.. it's a Hostage Situation
Lost your operation, when I hit the Side
U-haul my phattness, but I might get too wide
Forget to hide, my skill walk the Straight edge like a Cross mark
My lyrics are deadly to look at like Indiana Jones' lost ark
Pause... Wacks biting, while I'm inking you robbin
They Deluded like black kids at sam goody, thinking they Mobbin
Not feeling this? not feeling TexT? fuck what your Doubt brings
most don't live up to there name, like Fly's without wings
I SHOUT things, like I'm on da NEXT LEVEL but I'm more the Editor of this Game
Some might doubt so I'll use a metaphor to explain
Beating The GOD is like Prohibition in Ireland
So before you test you might want to retire dun
before you expire son, blinding I know, sometimes I Shine to bright
A keystyle still... Can you even imagine if i took the Time to Write?

JOE MADD:

if i took time to write you might find me basking in the lime of light
line up nine alike with 39 incisors and canines to bite
rhyme all night if you line all mics in my place to vent
chief of a tribe called mike starting a HATE movement
lace rude shit with innate smoothness like sanded rubies
saying joe madd is wack is like saying I AM's a newbie
you might think so, but the definition of dope is really me
if you disagree - i'm slingin more colt .45s than billy dee
friend of villainy and ill MCs - we birds of the same feather
laying more words on tracks than bombed up train letters
stain veterans who came better when they planned it
like stealing my man's pen just to say they've written IAM-BIC
pentameter - madd no more, call me joe-ru....the damager
with a flow to bandage yer wounds after i manhandle you amateurs

SWORDS:

i grab and curve earth's axis as i ravage words rampant
yall stutter like Paki accents, I pack a pachyderms mass when
i steer things clearly while weak emcees endear me
leave equators freezing just mainly by breathing
im everywhere, couldnt spring on me with Sealy's
bring it freely as the beat is streaming, streak of feelings
piece it easily together redeeming a dead evening
snap you out of boredom, the outcome straight floored em
I killed it, the skeletons bob their heads post-mortem
scores of overt overtures grow from low to heard
i fill bones with words, vocabulary marrow flows through herds
that gathered to grab a listen to my splash of aphorisms
apparitions are aghast at my flash of phantasmic visions
pass the glistening pen, i rip it to the end
feel free to try and outshine, um better just read it instead

JOE MADD:
read it instead or catch skull cracks for dull raps and bleed from the head
if you free weakly flee the scene meekly or delete your thread
retreat or speak from the dead we 3 MCs frequent Ouijas
keep your spirits staying alive like repeating the BeeGees
weak MCs give me the heebee geebees - make my skin crawl
dent ya'll crocks with a ten inch jaw drops when my pen scrawl
against all odds bet on madd - i'll either win or break even
fuck ya committee i'll run amuck in ya city and leave ya state grievin
at ya wake leavin your casket surrounded in a bed of ones, see
now that's the only time you ever wrapped dead on the money

CALEB:

the hate is real, as i bow and kiss the naked steel
operating on land, sea and air like a navy seal
i'm brutal but truthful - i run when the moon's full
and once in a blue moon my hunt becomes fruitful
flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone
when i'm dead in a grave they'll be quoting the stone

i read half a paragraph of the world's epitaph
it became very clear that we're workin with math
now the numbers are gone, we're in search of a path
but i'm stabbin on my paper in a murderous wrath

SWORDS:

the letters left you running like a shottie in Boys in the Hood
take it back to early 90's, the feeling is just that good
Tribe was rippin it, Main Source tore it down, also others
before the lack-luster came and brang assaults in clusters
Dre and the rest of the west had us wearing black
now its just MC funerals, bring Big L back!
i dont smell cats'll make it better in this current state
execs hurry to date the days flavor, surely for papes
but i still love learning the breaks, ressurecting fossilized
sounds of old masters for beats, i hypothesize
itll always stay around as long as its kept fresh
I love all that precedes me, but you aint heard the best yet

JOE MADD:

the best yet - before there was death threats there was def jef
now exit stage left - next phase elected - lets see who text's best
not many def left - like a clearance on hearing devices
nearing a crisis - from jeep beats to cheap creeps sneering at prices
appearing as Isis - clearing the land of all those in De-nile
test me on tracks i'm rabbit fast you'll get ate in the mile
straighten ya style - you rookies should stop looking crooked
lose ya checks on rhyme bets acting like your bookie took it

CALEB:

fuck a freshman MC we came straight from rap college
lovin the work we do like four paid alcoholics
in chamber apartments, it's satan and darkness
sleepin on a mattress, the fragrance of vomit
swords is upset he spends his days in the closet
i got a morning wood but i'm too famous to knock it
I AM lost his memory he needs a angel to jog it
and joe has a ring, he says his name is "the hobbit"!

that's how we do and not a day goes by
that this midas touch won't make a rainbow die

JOE MADD:

midas touch - we all golden - you don't shine quite as much
passion for frees - paint lyrical masterpieces with the slightest brush
leave you without a leg to stand on, then swipe ya crutch
i might switch gears and get you gassed like i slide the clutch
overran the gradients of earth steer past and span the radians
visions of gnomes within poems from weird ass scandanavians
swinging swords around chords, messages buried in vaults
to knock you off tectonic plates like the bay area faults
no pennies for your thoughts, not worth a single centavo
muthafuckas better get themselves in toon like Johnny Bravo


Swords

yall dont know what's what, bust stuff i thought a while ago
some dumb fucks in mud huts like slutty Navajos
unstoppable like permanent green lights
hurts the rest to recite the keen type of keys that we write
it seems like the spark is gone from most, i bring it right
my genotype is archetype-pedigree, i leave mics
looking like old flowers from the heat of mine
read a rhyme then between the lines for the extra stuff
im lyrics, and good ones, the realm of such that aint repped enough..

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