I up-funk the monk and smoke a bucket with skunk
They call me the hunk hulk drunk dunking punks in car trunks
Your styles shrunk up and ducks askin was'up with ya body strut
In my city, people feel cold steel cut gut, so mouths stay shut
Scheme girl sluts emiting gluttoned smut, watch out for head-butts
I'm set like a bolt while you turn like a greased wing nut
Launching the mic of ya head which cracks like a pistachio nut
My styles uncut, while yours ends suddenly abrubt...
When my shit gets goin
These rats start tip toe'in
All wood work's peel'in
On hood turf I spit roman
Move'in like a microscopic
Pop up locness and lock up projects
Putt'in bodies into fatal cycles
From rocked up products
My slang's unknown so i talk chubaca
Loan'in lem choppers and
Teflon vests like ten whoppers
To steel faced hip lockers
To coppers i'm like a nigga wita hood
Reach'in to his waist
Misunderstood i wonder would it be hard
To pick apart
From threat to victim, instead i shoot on sight
Or lose my life
I'm always set to lift'em
Up to judgement for think'in "i thought he wasn't"
Who's fuck'in next to test'em
Check'em down wit the lead lecture
Then at least its forever in pieces i rest'em
Last edited by Bigot Hitman; 02-13-2008 at 01:19 PM.
The dealer of hope is selling me lies
Reasons to live are reasons to die, in disguise
This life was never mine, the rivers never ran
Cross your arms, its too late for helping hands
Spit your pity elsewhere, there's no sympathy needed
For one who's never alive, for one who's never completed (Bigot Hitman)
http://www.wutang-corp.com/forum/sho...=25482&page=61
I warm iit up like Kane and sheep-skin
Bamboo chopping defense, my proposals indecent
Fuck weakmen eat em like wheat thins
Happy with my lye, and the booth i don't need friends
and i don't trick-dady, bitches pay me for freaking
One eye open sleeping, cause hoes are scandulous
Besides a nut, the heats the other thang i bust
In God i trust, my reflection in the mirror
My brains a masterpiece, got enough thesis to pack a theatre
Times are getting weirder, these babies coming up are muppets
Drop jewels master tools, to leave cats blown like a trumphant
Reign triumphant, besides pumping, i'm spitting, or thumping
Cops respect mine, or they face destruction
During questioning i'm saying nothing
no brutality, or else there's causaulties
Go ahead murder me, i'll be avenged by seeds
My words up, so look to the sky and take heed
And one of my hoes are Jamacian so i don't pay for trees
Mantis prey the weak, as well as the strong
Used to be a problem child, in my pocket i carried a bong
Carried the arms, and left enemies buried while bombed
Last edited by Mantra; 02-13-2008 at 02:28 PM.
My evidence, my own testament, written on wood
Twelve tribes layin at the head of corners in hoods
Hell razah
all in all a good verse as usual bro...Originally Posted by J.T.S.
Heres just a lil verse i was doing last night
--------------------------------------------------------------
Obscure Thoughts
[Verse 1]
We eliminate the prey when we hunt in packs
Shape up the frame before we take the snaps
Line tracks and gum packs, attacks from the japs
Microphone wraps, bum rushing like line backs
Misinterpreted facts from inherited rats
Set apart from the cats who dress up to the max
Feelin dumb smart when their ego gets taxed
And about to get smashed when we take em to task
Undertaking dangerous missions, delegating ferocious villians
Mass destruction derby’s causing paramount collisions
Deaf listeners better listen when blind eyes begin to glisten
No dissin on stage or we’ll beat ya'll into submission
Ya overshot the step, with no remarkable effect
Although we got a parable track record that most can never break
Labour, back breaking, undertaking dubious relations
With irate migrants bombed off their fragile stations
[Chorus]
Obscure thoughts connect lined dots between the few
Points of interest, when we represent Wu
We view all types of flicks, especially kung fu
So step back as we continue to search & rescue
[Verse 2)
I come in my prime, fine lines come from my grimey mind
Hailing from my UK shrine, I don a wu logo as a makeshift sign
Order a devine mind to contemplate your sudden decline
Poetic electric darts crafted outta psychosomatic vines
Ever since i was nine i had visions set further in time
Yousef styles too hard to define as they shoot up yer spine
Open ended caskets contain the remnants of a master craftsmen
Underground burial habitual serial baw flasher mashing
Hemospheres, adhere and branch out like proverbial trees
Abstractual roots for foots and wooden hands with nail leaves
Vocalisation to another nation with no relation, with time to waste
Eventually you will trace this back to the point in relative space,
All eyes will embrace any card thats dealt, But still I hold the ace
Gripping tight your emptiness like a rev on the mic, blown up face
Underlying demonic thoughts disrupt fools on site
Nothings left except the darkness of the deep night
[Chorus]
Obscure thoughts connect lined dots between the few
Points of interest, when we represent Wu
We view all types of flicks, especially kung fu
So step back as we continue to search & rescue
--------------------------------------------------------------
Weaponry I come wit the spear of destiny
You call me everything but John Constantine/
I’m a monstrous machine coming wit the greenery
Spit it so vehemently leaving you in awe/
After you just receive my messages
From yesterdays answering machine/
So if you know what I mean
You soon shall see what I didn’t mean/
You see the man in the mirror disappears
Reappears like the spring and the winter/
i got my foot in the door here at the temple of darts
joinin the ranks of all ya'll emcees explorin the arts
i got the rhymes and words that leave all ya'll jaws fallin
and i aint welcome back like katrina in n'awlins
i'm lyrical wit it, sometimes even satyrical wit it
a swarm of consonants and vowels attackin when i spit it
theres just somethin i speak that make ya'll keep comin back
like heath ledger to them pills tucked deep in his backpack
just tryin to contribute somethin...all ya'll are holdin it down in here.
It’s the cubical monkey drunk junky
Punch drunk drinking ink pen stinking/
Now you’re rumbling wit the African jungle gymnast
And the next generation Gorrilla Grodd in this justice arena/
My flows are odd and I got six hundred and sixty ways
Of disabling that pussy demeanor/
Play phone tag wit the crew in the mirror
After the thoughts I loot cha corpse/
I’m the remedy to all my enemies
It’s necessary to have adversaries/
In this day and age phase the rays take the case
Blaze up the place wit a smokers mentality/
Playing MK when I’m street fighting like RYU & KEN
There ain’t no end in the way I play wit minds/
Got the grind scouted heavily doubted
Rerouting ya routes around the proximity of the perimeter/
Why should I battle when I rattled that cage?
When everyone voted the other way with just one sway/
I can point out cha flaws wit easy odds my shit be carted
Leave you dusted and locked in like an Atari 800/
My pole position all requested addition spitting the wisdom
Wickedly climbing the ladder in the Congo where everyone else goes/
Flow shrouded my presence residential areas max a million
Caps are pealing swords are swinging and razors are shaving/
Weaponry behavior my raps be the poetic savoir
Major blazers phase caser wit temporal tasters/
Why not emcee I am from NYC & Upstate ya see
Just cuz I’m just sitting here typing out written
Don’t mean you can’t get in a cipher or too/
While I’m spitting like sunflower seeds ripping flipping flows
When you can put me on repeat and sit back in ya seat/
I got those flows like cigar smoke
Lose one lung ya bound to choke/
My bars are never bound to break
I break bars every time you shake/
Take a break ya rhymes are shedding skin
Like you’re just another snake/
I wait for no man to put me on
I bomb you like trains in the 80’s/
You better get cha self spayed or neutered
Cuz my shit is about to become the future/
Whatever you recite my shit rewrites despite cha highlight
I rely on flames blazing you weaklings at the gristle/
Spit it hard, soft and whatever these labels want
But fuck them and all their limited gimmicks I mimics nobody/
I grip the mic tighter than any emcee with a white lighter
Giving you knowledge like George Washington Irving/
Never am I drunk swerving I’m out maneuvering the competition
Leaving you sucker emcees stuck and out of pole position/
I can give you a cut of the lyrics I spit
But I’ll have to take stock outta records you blaze/
So don’t dare and test the best even now wit ya lame attempts
It takes better efforts to spark it so I don’t start it unless
I got the keys to spark it/
I guess i'll show these crabs how to rhyme
Check this demo its PS 1 Jampack
I'll take it back to that unmapped time
Make'in niggas react to my words
Like a "fiend cat" reacts to a "bird"
Move crowds like hitler
Convince a mass anything
Persuasion like a cobra to the fiddler
Or the fiddler to cobra, whatever the atmosphere
Writers don't practice here, i'll rain on'em like
The flood the carried noah's ark
With art like S.King,
Throw Shadows over any spot light
Get yo matches here
The dealer of hope is selling me lies
Reasons to live are reasons to die, in disguise
This life was never mine, the rivers never ran
Cross your arms, its too late for helping hands
Spit your pity elsewhere, there's no sympathy needed
For one who's never alive, for one who's never completed (Bigot Hitman)
http://www.wutang-corp.com/forum/sho...=25482&page=61
Keep the masses on smashes, the wolverine of rap clashes
Rope-a-dope style like Cassius, my figure fours the fastest
Burn a clique like i burn a spliff with inferno spits
Hardcore rappers turning bitch from the contact hits
Spray rapid, bust shots moonwalking niggas get clapped backwards
Slap herbs, snatch furs off the back of birds, splashing
Turning bodies to ashes in the midst of action
Use whips for lashing, and kitans for eye gashing
Bust shots while buses passing, the most thoro thrasher thrashing
Tommy gun packer, witness assasin, niggas rock flamingo fashions catch bashings
Running wild tactics trampling herbs ya heard the herd reaction
Last edited by Mantra; 02-20-2008 at 02:05 PM.
My evidence, my own testament, written on wood
Twelve tribes layin at the head of corners in hoods
Hell razah
nice verse JTS
From the land of kangaroos, booze and didgeridoos,
Crews getting loose with a fridge’a cheap brews,
I arise from thick ruins with the prize like Mick Doohan,
And storm record companies, disguised as Rick Rubin,
The sky’s a slick blue ‘n a breeze blows from the west,
I sit watching a wave as a spray flows from its crest,
Dressed in a vest to protect my neck and chest,
If I second guess the sun I just might come up second best,
Wreckin’ decks down at Beck’s it’s the next wave of DJ’s,
These days too many shmucks are stuck in an MC phase,
I felt the flames as I sweltered up in Delta’s heat haze,
Thinkin’ how it might melt the vinyl now when the final beat plays,
When a three way fued ensued on some he say she say,
Then fists started flying and applying with no de-lay,
Bodies moving in slow motion like this was an instant replay,
Then I was snapped back to reality at last by blasts of sea spray,
A sheet lays over the body of rap music,
Not dead, but thin as a toothpick, and too sick,
To fight the deadly cancer as it rages in his system,
So he seeks out worthy soldiers and finds labels to enlist ‘em,
But their assistance is too mild and resistance is futile,
As the game goes to work and leaves the victims in two piles,
One for those who flowed with the used and abused styles,
And one for those who were dozed on despite going through trials-
And tribulations when no station would embrace them,
Execs who had chased them took their contracts and erased them,
Cause they didn’t have the patience to stall, or balls to face them,
So they chose to disgrace them…
I just couldnt catch the flow on this joint Bigot..It's nowhere near as good as the stuff you normally spit bro.
Now on with a lil freestyle -
----------------------------------------------------
five hitter splitter, never quit, spitting shit
I deal all the cards and snatch all the chips
Switchin kits like supes in Ny phones booths
Causing gusts of wind to blow off yer highest roofs
I set the example, with no thought or compassion
Smahin mics of ya dome, then start harrasin
Ya on the phone so ya act like yer not home
Kickin in yer door and set about ya with our chrome
Swords tackle broads, uppercuttin jaws, scrapin boards with claws
Raisin pyramid blocks with abstract pictures that we draw
With keyboard mic swipes all night, we grip it tight
Impervious to any threats that ya might incite
By a long shot is what you've got, and all ya need
We plot over bongs fulled to the top, with skunk weed
Never needin any help, always rhyme with supreme class
Sendin phonies to saturns belt with a shuttle blast up they ass
So we wont be seeing 'em for a while
Some mourn while were crowning a happy head smile
Violate the mic with a verbal projectile
Extreme practices permit us to be exiled
Off the isle we return rejuvinated from the spring
With tropical telescopic optics exposin hotel killer stings
We're the all singing and all dancing mic device kings
A new perception of street life, is what we try to bring
Through yer speaker sets to tear up ya dark projects
We bring education without the need for a mock test
Cos you learn from the lines, specifically tailoured to taste
We dont waste no time so fuck and make haste
----------------------------------------------------
Big up Fam, Sheep, and Noel
Bringing down the house once i cave the roof in
Watch opponets get booed off stage, for lyric boosting
Conclusion moving mountains with mad momentum
Last man stand at attention, fists clenching due to tension
Punch victims, hump wisdoms, til they withdrawl from spitting
Splitting heads in front of feds, the loot keeps my babies fed
My influence spreads deeply, from Beantown to D.C.
A nigga with an additude, so how can i be eazy??
Sleezy slum trash bitches couldn't get a treat to tease me
I'm greasy, for sheezy, the gun cats pack be B.B.'s
Get money leave me alone(a loan) or get seen street
Once i release on a thief he's in I.C.U. for relief
Last edited by Mantra; 02-22-2008 at 01:06 PM.
My evidence, my own testament, written on wood
Twelve tribes layin at the head of corners in hoods
Hell razah
It’s the masta blasta technocratic
Masquerading in ya gym locker/
Flow flicker rip mic hogger
Throw backs out like NFL Jerseys/
Emcees don’t get worried
I ain’t stealing your honey away/
Cascade face ya fillet my grime time
Align mind wit telepathic lines/
Predicting rhymes is my specialty
Given the proper weaponry and familiar flows/
And I can glow in the dark like I’m the Green Lantern
After facts you do the math when graffiti get graphed/
Blast off the instructs I deduct ya cost of my funds
Duck these bars and start climbing up the ladder/
I pitter patter rhyme n scatter face the fatter
Batter up I’m next to rep settle ya steps/
Whether you in cement blocks or mud made homes
I got clones all over the place like Star Wars do/
Eyes may shine, devils may grind but death will soon rise
Heaven never lies fetch the flies, I’m lord of the rhymes/
Gravitating to the bars I write magnetic intercepting any module
I come in and never coddle ya lines are weak and somewhat horrible/
Cannibalize emcees wit empathy
Weaponry be secondary /
Wit educated burials deading all these 50 emcees
Making them forty-nine causalities/
Embattled wit brail rating my levels wit chi-energy
Jack Dempsy these suckers wit sole construction/
Concussion busting mics wit solar strikes
Flaring up like flames wit more oxygen/
Consume your vitals wit diseases on beds we peeing on
Bleed cha intestines out so I can rhyme about the danger/
You fade where the beat and the vocal meet
Only producers like Primo and Madlib/
Can give me the extra umph to pump it up like Arnold
I’m cold as a savage mastering ultra kinetic packages/
Blasting multiple rhythmatic syllables giving you contusions
When I’m bruising the English language so don’t drive while using/
So when I decide to rip you can call me another ripper ripping
And flipping multitudes of vocab that’ll take a stab at any man
Wit a microphone in there hand trying to be the next Stan to get canned/
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