[Flow]

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Open Mics
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It only takes one to change the tides of the worlds society

The masses of ones, a political sum, the bread is created from crumbs
A sun treated as god, that will burn any too ash that step out from under its thumb
But it only takes one.....


Its an intricate notion,one idea or emotion that can instigate motion
A token of hoping;one drop against the weight of the infinite ocean
With an explosion; the ocean persists with potent waves, hits after hits
Soaking, frozen and broken, he drifts eying eloping from the fierceness that exists
But in an innocent twist, his empiricist roots now prove their significance
Could be a spiritual gift or coincidence that with each hit now improves his diligence
His senses now sharp, his fearless charged, his limitless potential unbarred
His original innocence scarred, his unforgivable resistance now hard, he strikes an bombards
He fights back and he spars, he attacks and he scars, he guards, darts and goes straight for the heart
The others can see, the momentum builds and more ones start to believe, then one becomes three
With bravery they scream like banshees and banish the sea, it recedes and it flees
They gather around,they become bound to the one and so a new shepherd is crowned
A victory found, but how long will it be before that ideology is drowned?

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Topical about Topicals ft Lars and Objective


What does it take to gain your fickle respect? I’ve chopped and I’ve changed what I’ve written. I’ve spent innocuous days lost in dismay plotting away with the ink in my pen. Just when I think that I’ve met your insurmountable standard, there’s always something that’s said that has me doubting it. Answer me. What is it you’re looking for? A verse with mechanics, or simplicity? Good old stories of personal anguish? Do you prefer to be challenged, given something to think about, or have predetermined analogies to sum up what’s written down? I’m stuck. I can’t figure out what it is that you did. Excuse my belligerence, people, but I’ve tried every trick up my sleeve…

I mount and I heave..
Each page represents progression, sessions and hours wasted,
I hate to admit that sometimes feedback feels like sour hatred.
The writtens are dominated, agitated to reveal constipated lyrics,
It's apparent I'm fathering shit, but it's not related to adopted critics.
These cynics diminish my attempts as I replenish a writers ammunition,
a conidition where you envision lyrical superstition with a snipers precision.
Doubting concepts and visions; ''these bars is forming a prison of projects,''
Architects of words swore to fulfill designs only to form a line of objects.
To be honest.. How I can harvest confidence when I tried my hardest?
Chained to change but I restrain my range and connect to darkness.
A black hole of thoughts obliterate the skill to set it straight when I'm full of rage,
my will to write will never fade, but this curse is tied to an evil plague.
Let the Flo' demonstrate the rod and fear of elitist neglection;

I sweat blood and tears when I deliver all you bigamists perfection
Then get high on bongs and beers an sliver away to deal with your rejection
Your speculation on my peices is nothing but pinickity attempts of subjurgation
A violation of the perfection that should be hoffin - prickly vets take 2 new skill with suffocation
coughin - as i sit here smokin constant, contemplating what yall want from this drop
do you want wordplay, simple concepts or artistic visuals like those melting clocks
I can give you persistence of memory - honestly i can give you Salvador Dalí
But when I do I want the feedback to match not ones opinon that all you sheep rally
around and pretend like the echo your creating is actually your own unique sound
I just went to great lengths to provide art most you can do is tear my peice to the ground
or did i astound but dont just copy two lines that you found and say this is my favourite
fuck i hate it - that aggrivates me - make your opinons seperate - one like an one slating it


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Broken Minded

Watch it Kid i have a rabid habbit to blast my gasket,
wear a mask of shards of glass, to cover my scarred past bitch,
Carry a basket of broken hearts an dolls, with heads twisted,
quick to display dark arts stick around, i throw quite a picnic.
I dress in bloody vests with barbed wire tied tight around my chest,
use flagellation to best frustrations, though i was never truely blessed.
I never joke but been known to jest, i laugh an cry with fury,
tears of blood make my eyes blurry an stained my skin, like slurry.
My reflection is my best friend - told me i might be sectioned,
But i dont take notice, because hes just my minds invention.
Never sleep im always awake, but thats not how i was made,
took a day to cut out my eyelids, with sharpened razor blades.
I scream with more intensity then a thousand legions burning,
its not a dream, its more my plea, to heal the pain n hurting.
Envision living in vicious prisons, cats hangin of the wall,
pussys slashed, i dont mean pussy gash, there gats lyin on the floor.
My brain contains all the worlds pain, this is called a paradox..
My veins contain all worlds evils, dare you cut open pandoras box?
Tried to sell my soul to the devil, was told its too cold to use,
so cut his throat an for good measure, i cut the boatmans too.
Bathe in innocence and childrens ligaments, then wash myself in soap.
My wickedness is magnificent, you'll struggle to swallow it n you'll choke!
So kid, if you wanna hang with me, make sure you read what I wrote,
Use you head, cus to hang with me, is to hang yourself with rope!

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Cracked ft Lars

It’s an intricate feeling, entwined with an eagerness yearning,
Feel my ligaments burning, my veins are selfishly churning,
Going cold turkey, seriously I'm weary... I’m struggling.
I'm shaking I’m jerky, I’m tired fo fighting for life which I am turning
around - The urge hits like an anvil but never makes a sound,
I'm purging myself, my body was a landfill but I'm clearing the ground,
But my hands are bound, so shoveling the despair isn't easy,
Body says I don't but eyes show I care, wish the vice would release me!
My own mind tries to tease me, my brains out to get me,
Soul puts up a fight, but is knocked back with ease - I seek peace…
I've took a step back, succumbed to the latest attack,
Tried following the crumbs but cracked, an went back to the shack.
Chained and bounded but I am here through choice,
I'm ashamed, but I've lost all care along with my voice.
The needle I hold up like some messiah is bleeding,
I bleed red, it bleeds clear, it’s hot like fire an its fire I’m seeking!
I fire it up here; the shack is my home away from home,
Id fire it up there, but crack is better when it’s taken alone.
I know they will be looking for me soon, probably my niece..
Maybe she will finally give up on me, realise my disease is my peace…


The needle secreting it’s evilness deep. In need of release, I fiend for it. Pleading. It eats at my features, decaying my soul, so it’s easy to see how it’s taken control. Its my reason for being, it keeps me at peace, but I’m eager to seek an escape from it’s hold. I’m shaking. The cold keeps invading my bones making me groan with each step that I take. My face unemotive. I’m dead from the waist. All that’s left of my veins are the blues from my past, infected remains full of numerous tracks. Where obsession became a dependency. Daily I’d attempt separating the truth from the facts and pretending I’d changed. All that changed was the dose at the end of the day as the craving took hold. Now my friends look away when they see me. Displeased. And they’ll read this and weep but my disease is my…

Peace.

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Burning Bridges ft Lars

burning bridges?! I vanquish the abyss that's beneath em!
I Churn a Rift wit language filled with anguish, I am a Demon!
I am blasphemy personified, I am a legion of souls of heathens,
I am actually demoralised beyond all doubt and reason.
Im malicious, im vicious, rough round the edges, skin covered in scars!
im auspicious, im pernicious, lyrically scarred, from punches on bars!
Im bitterly sinister, a cold inimical winter, characteristically charred,
literally the definition of delivery but only a splinter of a bigger picture
Yo lars...

Your little sister’s kiddie fiddler on the roof. The middle-fingered loss of youth’s a synonym for prostitution so live in sin while knocking boots. No giving in. do what you do. Who gives a shit if not for you? It’s what living is. Be an opportunist. Stop listening. You’ve got to choose. Blot the rulebook, cross the I’s and dot the T’s. Do what you like, not what they’re pleased with. Apologising’s for the weak when borrowed time is what we’re breathing and tomorrow might just offer peace.


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Bored Key

Some people looking to gamble but jah homie aint got good odds
Bet your ass im sik and defiant, but i aint talking bout no mods
I got my nose in the Ultimate writer, but i aint someone to snoop
if he knew me he wouldnt of given me 4-1, son you know that shits the truth
some of these cats are some big tits, an i aint talkin bout immac
im talking about a knucklehead on rap boards, but who dont even bother to rap
im not a fan of bad weather - like as in storms, rain when its cold an windy
what the fuck did you think i meant? my names flo real i aint known as witty
Im the next big thing fo real, flow real is a beast an AOB is his stage
Im a scary g from kensington east, i make anger calm an no show like rayge
aint feelin some of the new cats, pretty sure 3 might even be obey?
but then theres some whos punches ive felt, shout out to my nigga rpk!
text dyin, aint had feedback for days, not even from my mentor Nik
i think ill finish this like i 'yam' baron mynd - wit a 'ta ra in a bit'