Negative
Bluelighter
some messed up stuff, my wanting to tell a certain someone how fucking dope I am in my weird strange self indulgent way . . .
I spit on the mic like you never
clever
follow with me on my personal endeavor
whether its
freein your mind to understand what I'm gettin
or at least nod your head to my never intermittin
flows on the microphone
you know I'm not alone
got my boy dok
wreckin shop
on the sonic and tone
mixin it down while I'm flexin my pen
spittin virtue and sin
want nothin less than a win
gin and k pin
got me chilled and relaxed
my pen got the notepad
filled to the max
with my lyrical fortitude
my prose and verse
I know I've got a lot of work before
I've rose to first
Individualistic, yet so simplistic
and pimp shit
so full of linguistics
you may have missed it
then just skip, flip back to
the start of the shit
cause from the hip, lip service
is the heart of this shit
intricate sonics ringin through your eardrum
the smooth engineered audio is making you numb
the pen, frictionless
crossing on the paper pulp
as if manifest destiny
like eternity laid it up
Ridin the bass as if I'm
surfin on sine waves
not Richard D. James
but I'm ridin the same highway
and even if the flow is
more dusty than digital
the skills that fills the computer
make analog look pitiful
get into the idea that
the music is self
fit to the real, it isn't
used for wealth
expression the utmost goal
its the whole
no second guessin, the real trick
is bearin your soul
gettin open, I'm hopin
that all of my spoken
is more than token
respect the MO like a shogun
No guns, not needed to
show that I'm hard
no race card
but just know that I'm
always on guard
I spit on the mic like you never
clever
follow with me on my personal endeavor
whether its
freein your mind to understand what I'm gettin
or at least nod your head to my never intermittin
flows on the microphone
you know I'm not alone
got my boy dok
wreckin shop
on the sonic and tone
mixin it down while I'm flexin my pen
spittin virtue and sin
want nothin less than a win
gin and k pin
got me chilled and relaxed
my pen got the notepad
filled to the max
with my lyrical fortitude
my prose and verse
I know I've got a lot of work before
I've rose to first
Individualistic, yet so simplistic
and pimp shit
so full of linguistics
you may have missed it
then just skip, flip back to
the start of the shit
cause from the hip, lip service
is the heart of this shit
intricate sonics ringin through your eardrum
the smooth engineered audio is making you numb
the pen, frictionless
crossing on the paper pulp
as if manifest destiny
like eternity laid it up
Ridin the bass as if I'm
surfin on sine waves
not Richard D. James
but I'm ridin the same highway
and even if the flow is
more dusty than digital
the skills that fills the computer
make analog look pitiful
get into the idea that
the music is self
fit to the real, it isn't
used for wealth
expression the utmost goal
its the whole
no second guessin, the real trick
is bearin your soul
gettin open, I'm hopin
that all of my spoken
is more than token
respect the MO like a shogun
No guns, not needed to
show that I'm hard
no race card
but just know that I'm
always on guard
u