Friday, May 17, 2013

it's about my persona/ain't nothin' like a man/who can do what he wanna

a magician's lie,
a musician's persona.
ain't no now,
or how could now
not, no nada,
change is upon ya,
like a charismatic persona.

over a hundred years
not nothin new, nada,
a dozen every day,
change is mundane.
ain't no now
or how could now ever change?
ain't no now
or now never changes,
show me something ordinary
and i'll zero on the strange shit.

when was now,
not now when,
was not now when.
put a weapon in my hand,
and i'd do it all again.

a cold nine that folds fine,
carbon fiber, cost a nigga's eye.
put a mic in my hand,
and i'll amplify.
gimme a pen,
and i'll be a future spy.
radar ears, satellite eye,
wifi network cry.

i rock it, i'm the top shit.
regular - like water from a faucet.

can't really detect it -
i won't get suspected.
the reason for it's evident/my weaponry is relevant
assassinate the president
my plan is simple and not elegant:
rush like wild elephants,
every man trained and planed,
straight planks for my house; zero slouch.

a lyric from my mouth
aimed to murder reagan
asleep and drooling
on the couch.
the terminator time-travels,
the admirals orders chinese carryout.

put an organ in my hand:
eye, penis, microphone or kill-a-man
and i'll j-dilla.
in the big truck, with the chinchilla,
a boxer's quick-swingin' fist,
every verse i spit's a chin-chillah.

robot souls, go, and swim.
my eyes on the prize, i rise up;
up from the depths like a g-o-dzilla,
flamin' breath like the pope,
you think it's just a joke
till those japanese niggas hit ya
with the tokyo grope,
wu-tang brought back hope

and i'm just tracing snowy footsteps
down the slope
so i don't break the ice and croak.

the mic's a nice device,
be sure to use it twice,
open up your thighs, daughter
i lick your pussy with my eye.

ate it, love it or hate it,
both ways i can make,
cold beat it up, or straight pussy-worship,
nothin' but good dick.
lay enough
to scratch a seven-year itch;
even a paraplegic does a back-flip.

full stop.
spit a wack lyric?
i'd rather sodomize my pops,
than let a soul listen.

shit, like a baby, i'll smear that shit.
like a faggot,
i'll queer that shit.
like houdini,
i'll disappear that shit;
popular sounds are radio-active
don't go near that shit,
let me rearrange your brain
so you won't hear that shit -
we clear on that slick?

in my center is a fact you can't erase:
thought is the weapon
essential in any space.

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