The Lion's Den.-Po'Ethics Collab.
Mindless.
My soul is enclosed in skin and bones
that will hopefully be ripped open
by the lords that control this worlds jungle.
Part of the golden cycle is to divide men
who tend to end up in the lions den;
showing them the privilege of spending
energy fending off the so called enemy.
Let them fall steady and separate each
bend in-between heaven and the extreme,
that keep sweeping our feet into dirt cheap
beliefs that scream at the dreaming sheep.
There's no need to be defending me
while your asleep, leaping in deep deceit
when every century God is sending peace.
Atticus.
A steel rumble, thunder clouds peel
the sky's eyes as it waters down feel.
Poors for sums, years, months more
than normal under the Lion's gut roar.
Our age old agony sores Muhabi pace,
sand grain and shatter glass leash cages
trace our path down the back allies of Main St.
Ever cement born corner the mother land
stands to repent the new world order.
Lamp posts topple and fold, grip its handle
and take position; Create gods great division.
As that taxi cab's scowl begins to pronounce
and its low pitch growl digs a hole, down
in your soul you dance; Become a man, GO!
Kill the beast, his heart will beat no more...
For crossbreed streets have willed your sword.
But in the plains great progression, is you,
tangled in the old ways with dangling rules.
Victim of circumstance is Sam the Libra.
Wrapped down now in black and white slash,
the hunt's contradict is new attack... The Zebra.
Sharp.
My life in poetic aesthetics was never regretted,
I am a phonetic weapon neglected by my brethren.
Genetics invented me through immaculate conception.
Relentless strive for perfection, nothing less than impressive.
Fifteen perfect syllables for every line created.
Sedated optic nerves leave no persuasion for evasion.
Meaning that physical structure doesn’t affect the ones hurt.
Verbal ruptures spawn on your esophagus until blood squirts
from every orifice. My words morph into spoken bliss.
“Tears from opened wrists flood broken fists of the Eternalist.”
An abstract dumbass, not intelligent enough to gun blast-
Or make drug cash. Incompetent fool, you shoulda’ just slung crack.
You’re dissecting your soul with a spoon and have built your own tomb!
You hung onto your faith thinking you’d be resting at home soon.
But Hip Hop betrayed you and now planet earth is too mainstream.
You’ll completely transcend the chronic clouds and Hell’s flames blazing
Instead, you’ll be captured by vinyl tombstones and plastic plaques.
An originator marked as a enthusiastic hack-
Trapped by your own talents and legendary tracks forever
Because you’ve showed more stagnation than these kids show endeavor.
Links-
http://www.rapbattles.com/forum/showthread.php?t=267235
http://www.rapbattles.com/forum/showthread.php?t=266857
