Sunday, June 20, 2010

Prison Bars

I spit prison bars,
got you locked up cuz you fucked up.
Graspin the steel, tryna see whos on the other side
it's just a mirror, looking at yo own mind.
Brought this upon yourself, no belt,
you couldn't hold your own, your own pants fell.
Metaphor for your dignity incase you couldn't recognize,
you're lyrically irrelevant, so stop feeding your self lies.
you can't write, you can't freestyle.
Oh so you think you can rap? Na fuck that you can't,
you're just saying shit with words that rhyme,
anyone can do that, it takes true skill to implement a metaphor.
And if you tryna diss me, this whole song is a better form of a metaphor,
it's got a meaning, a better core, than your life's existence,
are these words too big for you to spit, too difficult.
Go read a book, quit rappin,
Your a kid still in school, you got a lot more to learn.
Lesson one, don't fuck with me or you'll burn.
Like Usher, why don't you confess what you yearn to.
Go to church, ask for forgiveness from something that don't exist.
Yeah fuck you I said God is fake, just like your rap skills.
How do I know? Because life is fucked, from the start.
Shout out to MC Stutters I feel your beating heart,
that's the bass and treble, but I can't hear the lyrics.
Your heart will never speak to me, not of what you've endured.
Your experience is yours to fight back with, that's ensured.
Using your past as fuel to create ambition for your engine,
I'm wishing you all the best, I hope those bills patch your bleeding heart.
Because I know they've taken mine apart,
so now I spit these prison bars, because then maybe I'll encompass myself behind them.
Freed from humanity and the monetary greed.
This rap can't end now, I'm still not full, I got the urge to feed,
seven deadly sins, movin from gluttony to wrath.
It's not the last, that's why I don't spit my saliva,
I save it to burn you when I take a hit.
You're the blunt I rolled, now get ready to get smoked.
My flow is smooth, I won't choke, no joke.
This song's as serious as they come and go,
it'll become a cliche to hear Paul's the next to blow.
It won't happen, I know, I don't respect any rappers that spit,
that bullshit.
Mos Def, Talib Kweli, Eminem, the very few with meaning when they spew their stew.
It's too hot to intake, it'll burn your tongue, this ain't something you can recite,
wait for the hook to say you had something you sung.
They call this a rap beat, cuz my lines hit you with blows so hard,
you fall back to take a seat, but it's been pulled from underneath.
You hit the dirt, you're back down to your true level.
Your confidence was too high, you needed to be reduced back to rubble.
There's a reason I'm 6' 2'',
I'm high enough above you that I can keep these raining clouds above you,
those aren't rain drops, those are tears.
Am I killing you this bad?
These are just words, imagine if I tried.
It took me just a few minutes to show you what I'm capable of.
So give me a record deal I dare you,
see how bad I fuck up this rap game, I'll kill it myself and recreate it in my image.
My ego is through the roof, call my Kanye East.
Representing the right brain, representin creativity.
I barely rhymed any words back there, did you notice?
I didn't even need to, cuz I can do what the fuck I want and still own this.

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