Comic Genesis Forums

Yo.
I bomb atomically.
Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses
can't define how I be droppin these
mockeries.
Lyrically perform armed robbery,
flee with the lottery.
Possibly they spotted me.

Yo, field you work in, weapon producin'
Natural disaster got the planet in a panic
We all gots to make that livin'
Sex, drugs, murder, politics and religion
Forms of hustlin', watch who you put all your trust in
Worldwide, we coincide with who sufferin'
Who never had shit and ain't got nothin'
But most strugglin', and make you wanna run up in the ma' fuckin'
With hots on for a piece of the cake back
I can't work for it, I can certainly take that
I'm fired up, thinkin' about the payback, except
You fuck around and be a enemy of the state, black
Ill, but that'd be too real for TV
It's crazy when you too real to be free
If you ain't got no paper then steal this CD
Listen man, I'll let you know how it feel to be me, it don't feel

You know about me dogg.
Don’t talk about me dogg.
And if you doubt me dogg,
You better out me dogg
I'm throwed off slightly bro.
Don’t wanna fight me bro.
I'm fast as lightning bro,
ya better wear ya Nike’s bro.

I'm in the back, changin' ma outfits.

I'ma get the mozzerella
Like a Rockefella.
Sittin in the church of Maribella,
singin hymns a capella.

whaz up wit all this chatter
bringing weak rhymes gettin me phatter.
Using forums to bring about the fame
but all kids they be hollerin-- my name
that P-h-a-c-t
picking up my records at an outrageous fee
Pulling those greenbacks not one at a time
Everybody screaming to-hear-me rhyme.
Bring the lyrical warfare to the microphone
words that mean trouble or just go home.

what the crap
what's up with this rap
didn't see it comin'
or i'd've gone runnin'
if i'd have known
my mind'a been blown
too late now
to avoid this cow
so i'll just make this sucky rap that doesn't really have an appropriate rhyming rap-style end

Ten times out of nine,
and if I'm lyin' find
the quickest muzzle, throw it on my mouth
and I'll decline.

Rap is lame,
it's plain-jane, just insane, inane,
the style will wane,
when the main men of rap
bust a cap through their hat and that will be that.
peace out.

Hey! yo! Swingin' with the flams
Taps and drags and rolls I gotta keep the jam
and then I got to talking to Chokemchild and artful dodger
they both told me that we all is canon fodder
for this era, which it is so Dickensian
So I'll sit here and ruminate,
with my lunch, which is Mexican
Rice 'n beans and beef and avocado
if ya cross me, y'all be termindado.

rkolter wrote:Rap is lame,
it's plain-jane, just insane, inane,
the style will wane,
when the main men of rap
bust a cap through their hat and that will be that.
peace out.

If ya gonna hate, might as well get ya rumors straight.
Step to me, callin that rhymin? Well it ain't.
How ya gonna come up in here tellin me what's lyrical?
You from the world of bunsen burners. Stick to the empirical.
The evidence is clear, you got no business here.
This is survival of the fittest, youse a fish, I'm a polar bear.
You sit there and scratch ya head lookin for the evidence.
Ya waste ya time tryin, my rhyme's designed with intelligence.
So be reasonable cuz you got no cognition
bout rap, go read a book or two before ya start bitchin.

yeahduff wrote:Yo.
I bomb atomically.
Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses
can't define how I be droppin these
mockeries.
Lyrically perform armed robbery,
flee with the lottery.
Possibly they spotted me.

Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits
tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics
I inspect you, through the future see millenium
Killa B's sold fifty gold sixty platinum

Heh heh.
Shackling the masses with drastic rap tactics.
Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths.

Don't bring me decaf, you ill-minded sons of bitches.
every time I take a sip of Postum, my trigger finger itches.
Bring me all the Kona and Intelligensia,
take too long and I'll cut a bitch and have y'all in stitches.

Perched up in my chair, heart beating abnormally
coffee in my veins the sacred bean awakens
the tendencies of panic which are not mistaken
someone call an ambulance for death here finally

c'mon, drop the creamer and go and get the tubes
jam them in my arm and get man in white
tell me I'll be fine and other sorts of lies
They'll make me feel better even though I'm gonna die

Dude, man, you musta got some bees in your bonnet.
Settin out to rap ya comin up with more like sonnets.

What the heck
I thought I killed this freakin' thread
But now here it comes
Back from the freakin' dead

ohs noes its still on
artists steppin up with the pros and con
raps not a crime
you will see when ya do yer time
on the streets my fellow
or your sly words just turn mellow
Prepping up your avacado
like you won grand stakes the east state lotto
Pulling my chain about violence
or just maybe hiding behind the science
keep it up or be led
thread rising from the dead

yeahduff wrote:

rkolter wrote:Rap is lame,
it's plain-jane, just insane, inane,
the style will wane,
when the main men of rap
bust a cap through their hat and that will be that.
peace out.

If ya gonna hate, might as well get ya rumors straight.
Step to me, callin that rhymin? Well it ain't.
How ya gonna come up in here tellin me what's lyrical?
You from the world of bunsen burners. Stick to the empirical.
The evidence is clear, you got no business here.
This is survival of the fittest, youse a fish, I'm a polar bear.
You sit there and scratch ya head lookin for the evidence.
Ya waste ya time tryin, my rhyme's designed with intelligence.
So be reasonable cuz you got no cognition
bout rap, go read a book or two before ya start bitchin.

Your rhyme is Intelligently Designed,
it's Created and defined with great thought
and much talk like a Flat Earther that walks
off the edge of his world your words make me hurl
like a bulemic chick with curls matted and wet
you ain't done beat me yet.

rkolter wrote:

Your rhyme is Intelligently Designed,
it's Created and defined with great thought
and much talk like a Flat Earther that walks
off the edge of his world your words make me hurl
like a bulemic chick with curls matted and wet
you ain't done beat me yet.

What's this? Ya gotta be kiddin me, brutha.
Ya like Olly hollerin, "Please, can I have anutha?"
Well if ya wanna get beat, I'ma put my foot in ya seat.
Take a break after I'm done, though, don't make me threepeat.
Talkin bout bullimics when you the one with the self-hate.
This ain't Access Hollywood, son, go chill with Mary-Kate.
Or was it Ashley? I ain't exactly sure, I don't check the rags.
Got not time to waste on whose dress is ugly or whose fatass sags.
But I digress. I suggest you take a knee, throw in the towell,
Lest you feel the pain like ya got smacked with a fuckin owl.

I run this city, clearly
Tell em get lost, I'm busy.
"Really?"
Sucka I'm illy.