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QUOTE]it arrived, I realised I was there and didn't know it,
mesmerised looking in the eyes of the hidden poet,[/QUOTE]
These are some definite quotables Noel, I enjoyed reading this knowledge drop...Quote:
now left with the notion of growing through belief,
pen style perfected when I accept truth decieves,
turn rivers into oceans and roots into trees,
tend my corrections 'til the next clue's recieved.
Rhyme scheme is tight and even flow
ONE LOVE
While most spit shit noel rips shit
Most simplistic while he hits cryptic
Dont matter it's sick if da Aussie wears lipstick
Bc most scatter quick in his leather and whips
Famous for doin flips for dick and grabbin' hips
Da God got rhymes for days y'all betta respect bet
Though shit never pays cause he's just a net vet
This thread is mad hype with those metaphors and multies
Like he gives head to hoes, whores, and men big and sultry
So bow down to the master of this net shit
Before he creates a disaster and has ya neck split
Arguing in combat with imbeciles cause this boy knows the ledge
Sippin' love juices of Wombat to give him the will and the extra edge
word to ya mother's uncle's gimp's cousins aids infected autistic dog
Hahahaha, that's some ill ass funky hype dope fresh def shit, cd. Thanks for dropping that in my thread.
And thanks Fugitive. Always appreciate hearing from you.
Cautiously approach, taking no chances,
thoughts turn to flows for the sake of advancement,
sort through the storeroom, break off the cancer,
arrange it accordingly, state what's the answer,
what's the chances of planning and perfecting?
uncertain like a van that ran the intersection,
refute me conclusively and I'll stand corrected,
take it like a man with my right hand extended,
make a grand entrance to command their attention,
plant a lance in the man who ran the convention,
ask the wrong question, you're testing my patience,
I'm the boss like Spock when questing in spaceships,
some even say the best thing since fake tits,
I'm coming with hatred like a resident rapist,
resting only during the seventh day sabbath,
stay in bed late, break bread with my neighbours,
they say my behaviour is far from acceptable,
when tasted the flavour of my bars is exceptional,
like a savoury beast whose carcass is edible,
praise me on knees if you grasped what I said to you,
like that bastard who led the jews, died on the cross,
toss darts that cross paths right on the spot,
my energy could bend a tree, give life to a rock,
every drop such a shock it stops time on a clock,
nobody riding my jock and I like it that way,
dick riding these days is a frightening display,
it's like a gay craze when light hits the stage,
the mic fades away with the right pitch and haze,
grip the reigns, guide the horse to victory,
a twist of fate has us re-recording history,
by those who think a man's important visually,
and the lost souls who bought their twisted schemes,
notice the hopeless war is fought with mimicry?
of those they oppose so they fall short dismally,
in feeble hope people of all sorts will be free,
stuck in a rut, ducks that we hunt 'til they see,
they build a screen that causes further seperation,
re-write the law with blood drawn from murder patients,
take the blame, admit shame and learn to face it,
to gain a good name you've gotta earn your placement,
and they'll term me a "racist" but I no longer care,
because to me there's a bigger problem to repair,
a problem about what's wrong and what's fair,
a problem that has turned my song to despair,
they left when we questioned what's really there,
intentions were threatened so they got really scared,
my drop's nearly dead, chop a drug in half,
I did this to witness my love for the art,
my poison pen text rhymes show I've got heart,
join me again next time I drop fifty bars.
Peace
Your writing is off the hook...I love it
real tight flow, realistic content, i can relate to yo shit ....keep it up
Peace
Quote:
Originally Posted by noel411
This could easily go down as a classic drop. It's as if you broke out of a cell of frustration ... venting, in a sense ... spewing fury all over the screen, which is very obvious in the bars below.
One word ... DAMN!!! ...Quote:
Originally Posted by noel411
You really tore the second half up!
There's a lot of insight to be gained from between these lines ... I'm definitely feeling the content and the flow. Parts of this reads like your "twin"... lol ... other parts made me feel as though I was looking in a mirror at my former and present self. You know you've done a great job when one can mentally visualize, and be physically moved by, your words.
Props on another great drop ...
Peace
Damn Noel you're hitting hard with this display!!Quote:
Originally Posted by noel411
Dope energy and your emotions conveyed!!
Many thanks for the replies, Aqueos Moon, Big Benjamin, and especially Dae for giving another detailed reply. Always appreciated.
I just wanted to "break down" something I said in this verse, because it sounds really stupid, and bothers me whenever I see it, haha. I just wanna show that it actually meant something because it sounds random and stupid, haha.
The first half is nothing, just what it says, my verse is almost over. But the "chop a drug in half" is because this verse was inspired by Canibus' "100 Bars", so by doing 50 bars I was chopping Canibus' 100 bars in half, and of course cannabis is a drug, so that's what that reference meant.Quote:
my drop's nearly dead, chop a drug in half
Sorry, I just wanted to clear that up even though nobody mentioned it. It was bothering me, haha.
another thing Noel the verse seems as if you wrote this effortlessly...PeacEcaeP
no signs of writers block
Yeah, definately. If you read through this thread you can see I've just been practicing with different rhyme schemes and such, trying to improve my skills. I'm at a point now where rhymes just come to me really naturally. If I've got nothing on my mind that I wanna write about, I just write rhymes about anything, to sharpen my skills, which has been helpful to me. I've written more rhymes in the last few months than I would have written in probably my whole life.
He wakes from his slumber, past nine is the number,
shakes off the covers, last night is a wonder,
head heavily pounds, every sound is like thunder,
looks down at the ground and frowns at the chunder,
found under his head, is a small red puddle,
around the bed, he finds more and is puzzled,
tries to picture the night, with no vision or sight,
restricted like a dog with its jaw in a muzzle,
falls and stumbles, as he gets to his feet,
led to believe that last night he got crazy,
some light and hot pastries, he fetches to eat,
next his tv turns bright, he drops lazily,
watching the daily news, the main story,
four dames who were boarding, left maimed and gory,
four young nurses, who were raped and murdered,
he feels an uncertain mix of pain and glory,
when he looks at the stained remains of the war scene,
four teens with torn dreams, lost in a rage,
wipe the floor clean, bodies tossed in a grave,
he wanders the streets, like he's lost in a maze,
grabs a newspaper and is later amazed,
to see his own face grace the front page,
Reading the article, he's dripping sweat particles,
each word reaches further to ripping his heart in two,
weezes and gags, breathing has become hard to do,
like Master Fard, finds it hard to grasp the truth,
but he has to accept that he's left with no path to choose,
the last clue was a fifth girl who called the law,
she'd been on the floor, said she'd seen it all,
from under a bed where she'd crawled before,
first blood was drawn and the slaughter performed,
called in an artist, who drew a patchy depiction,
but could be used to conclude that he matched the description,
in conjunction with the fact they captured his prints when,
they found an inscription written in the blood of his victims,
nothing was missing, from the scene of the crime,
aside from one item they couldn't seem to find,
a silk bra it seemed he couldn't leave behind,
a thieving mind was not behind this heinous crime,
the paper stated the perpetrator would be chained in time,
the paint is dry, now he's cold to the touch,
nonplussed cos he can't recall holding the brush,
He creeps back to his apartment without recognition,
paranoid like a hitman on his second mission,
checks the kitchen and finds two knives missing,
shook cos it looks like he took lives with them,
five women, four gone, mourned, and dead,
heads to the bedroom with a feeling of dread,
kneeling, he bends and sorts through the clothes,
he'd put on last night before he left home,
finds two bloody knives, a bra, a gun, a sack,
of crack that he now recalls snorting in stacks,
thoughts gone off the map, he got caught in a trap,
now the hall is packed with a forceful opponent,
as one falls back to crack the door latch,
he snatches his gat, not sure if it's loaded,
caught in the moment, he cocks back the hammer,
lock cracks and they clamour as his thoughts are exploded.
geez...ok.
umm...nice imagery
hahaha rough night man?
i love the story telling shit
respect
Thanks for peepin', mo'fuckaz.