old collab i did with my guy GLOCKOMA aka BEYOND
kinda long .. read if you dare to finish
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yo,
the owner of lost souls, age older than god knows,
black bars to average is flamethrowers to charcoal
i drove to the crossroads - range rover, then volvo
from a future where ID's changed over to barcodes
yall know, the savage cat, each passage is sacred
cuz my pen and pad was crafted in the labyrinth of satan
mad miraculous, tracin' out a handful of pages
to leave opponents still, frozen like paralysis patients
cast magic in places that's been abandoned for ages
so much control over globe, you'd think i ran with the masons.
blackbird, the raven. takin‘ heavenly flights,
beady eyes, steel beak, feather metal & spikes…
shreddin the mic, lyricism crystal encrusted
physical function bustin like a missile combustion
so ask who the illest? we done finished discussions
split every head in the section when i spit a concussion
cuz we infinite cousin, it's the last of a dead breed -
done plowed up all the archives & planted the next seeds……
now sit back & wonder if yall cats could impress me
when you barely skim the surface like ya strapped to a jetski,
battled giant dragonflies in back of an M3
double edge, the deadliest when scabbard is empty.
.. a pallet of every single shade in a serenade
just to paint a scene, man-made and let it marinate,
razor to face with fades, shaved from a pair of braids
wisdom body sages, here to reign until this era fades.
*click*
The fires are burning outside the empires of Turkey.
After the thunderstruck,
Your number’s up - go ahead and retire your jersey.
I conspire with clergies, excite the ire of Xerxes.
And any guy that is worthy on the mires of Sterling.
Ireland purgings of the false prophets in sheepskin.
While landlords make a living off property leases.
It’s the dark sodomy sequins that spark oddities.
And the ark’s pottery peguins that start sovereignty.
In the gloomy alleyways, the fumey battlecaves,
Mark their territory to the savvy shire of farmlands.
The style of armbands showing guile of farmhands.
Do you have the power? The one that brightens,
The sphere of the celestials, the sun that’s shinin’.
The underbitin’, undelightful tiger of the beast.
With the pirates’s trust in the tidals of the sea.
The ayre of the beach and the air that we breathe,
Forming somber clouds beyond the towns and cities.
Prairies between and the stronghold found we pitty.
It’s a razor-close, saber-cloaked world we enliven.
So I’ve made a toast, drank the coke, hurlin’ inside it.
‘Cause the sharp acid shard-plastic taste like toxic.
Explosives are music to ears, so face the rockets.
The flying saucer, dying offer of a burnt sacrifice.
Is the worst pack of lies since the first Maliki.
At the crossing, if our offspring tremble the moon.
It’ll be the Last Crusade, THIS is the Temple of Doom.
& i resemble a goon .. infected mental consumed
two steppin‘ chess piece in three intelligent moves
the genesis troop dressed in velvet, elegant suits,
picked up pencil, drew a high noon using decadent hues.
plus i stay where violets reddish & rose petals are blue
half the population rottin' slowly; dead in a tomb
stencil a groove in surfaces of relics and runes
grabbed flesh from underbelly, stabbed a sedative through
so sickening i puke, dude is medicine proof
with a helluva crew, blessed ones, the better than YOU
beyond a blackened stratisfear to regiment Zeus
all this Chat about AIM, just grab ya weapon, and .. shoot.
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Witness the epical fuse, fused and entwined.
The win-win and the lose-lose of the mind..
Inside a lucid design, grind with the two to the side.
The feudalist times, pines in the bluest of slime.
What’s it to you? Guru with the saddlebags.
And the tatted hands for the battlelands.
Sitting on the shelf, self-centered dust in the distance..
If you can’t handle the brimstone heat,
..Better stay out the combustable ketchen.
The thunderbolts glisten, hittin’ the relics of the uppertoe.
When I’m on the white plains headed for the underzone..
Collectable ignited voodoo dolls dressed in suit and tie.
Politicians burning - wishing for an exit wound demise.
... Demise.
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