Act I
Posted: Sat Jan 23, 2010 7:25 am
I got a story about...
the realest, wittiest kid denied and dismissed by his city
but the illest lyricist this side of the Mississippi
supplied with sick lines and slick rhymes a plenty
'BIC' mind, spittin' fire, kid knew he was winnin'
to view you'd be squintin' when he released a noun-tandem
cuz to understand you have to be out-standin'
like starin at the moon covering up the sun
his passion consumed and eclipsed the number one
crowds he could move with just the tip of his tongue
so he vowed to prove that with his gift he would stun
like the British are coming, lyrics he released were 'Revered'
so he quickly appeared, lifted clear above peers
veered from fears of decling and disappointed loss
to claiming his pen was divine just to get his point a'Cross'
Act II
Rhymes surged in his brain, like blood pulsin' through veins
& lines purged from his frame, flooded holes in the game
told that his goal was insane...unattainable
his soul like coals was inflamed, a veritable volcano...of frustration
his patience waning and determination straining
an indication of pain in every phrases creation
The only consideration, for these raps he conceived
was that his practice was inadequate so feedback he received
was like..."your concepts & content complex? nonsense
you got the wrong tense & consonants and consequently false confidence"
the realest, wittiest kid denied and dismissed by his city
but the illest lyricist this side of the Mississippi
supplied with sick lines and slick rhymes a plenty
'BIC' mind, spittin' fire, kid knew he was winnin'
to view you'd be squintin' when he released a noun-tandem
cuz to understand you have to be out-standin'
like starin at the moon covering up the sun
his passion consumed and eclipsed the number one
crowds he could move with just the tip of his tongue
so he vowed to prove that with his gift he would stun
like the British are coming, lyrics he released were 'Revered'
so he quickly appeared, lifted clear above peers
veered from fears of decling and disappointed loss
to claiming his pen was divine just to get his point a'Cross'
Act II
Rhymes surged in his brain, like blood pulsin' through veins
& lines purged from his frame, flooded holes in the game
told that his goal was insane...unattainable
his soul like coals was inflamed, a veritable volcano...of frustration
his patience waning and determination straining
an indication of pain in every phrases creation
The only consideration, for these raps he conceived
was that his practice was inadequate so feedback he received
was like..."your concepts & content complex? nonsense
you got the wrong tense & consonants and consequently false confidence"