THE OPEN MIC CYPHER

Coup · 07-12-2013, 08:52 PM

I'm a imposter of true talent
Somebody who's bitten the greats
Often imitating, never duplicating
Can't form a rhyme without the rhyme brain
Dot com, kingdom come...my will isn't done
For mine is the power to lay claim in shame
A sour hyperbole, a try-hard wanna be
A soothsayer dragon slayer...a kid in mud puddles
Hearing space shuttles rumble but still text horrible
So I stand on my knees and kiss my fingers
Praise the Most High, pray he bless this niggah
I wanna colab up with void and pancake hoe
Stand with Pat and copy Vulgar's vulgarities
In Latin, stand laughing but I'm just an imposter
Show me the Way, Whys do we have to die ?
MEET ME AT THE CROSS ROADS.
With Just write bro.

My words are just recycled thoughts and phrases
My keen senses are just an indulgence in self
Laziness and a lack of compassion for others
I harmonize the inner man to your seraphic breath
I look at the Open Mic and read the symphony
Of sounds and written epiphany...looks so easy
It's such a shameless sin to delight in polite praise
And while I search the heavens for truth, I secretly
Stomp my baseless ambition of written knowledge
I know not to go down that familiar road...knowing
I'm not as clever or proficient.

07-12-2013, 08:52 PM	#11
Coup Don't believe the hype Join Date: Feb 2013 Posts: 572 Battle Record: 4-5 Rep Power: 0	I'm a imposter of true talent Somebody who's bitten the greats Often imitating, never duplicating Can't form a rhyme without the rhyme brain Dot com, kingdom come...my will isn't done For mine is the power to lay claim in shame A sour hyperbole, a try-hard wanna be A soothsayer dragon slayer...a kid in mud puddles Hearing space shuttles rumble but still text horrible So I stand on my knees and kiss my fingers Praise the Most High, pray he bless this niggah I wanna colab up with void and pancake hoe Stand with Pat and copy Vulgar's vulgarities In Latin, stand laughing but I'm just an imposter Show me the Way, Whys do we have to die ? MEET ME AT THE CROSS ROADS. With Just write bro. My words are just recycled thoughts and phrases My keen senses are just an indulgence in self Laziness and a lack of compassion for others I harmonize the inner man to your seraphic breath I look at the Open Mic and read the symphony Of sounds and written epiphany...looks so easy It's such a shameless sin to delight in polite praise And while I search the heavens for truth, I secretly Stomp my baseless ambition of written knowledge I know not to go down that familiar road...knowing I'm not as clever or proficient. __________________ What is public must be legit, fit for average consumption, don't forget. What is private is handled by pirates, prying loose profits from prosthetics. To tell the difference between: first remain unseen with a steady breath and hope, then listen to the cracks in the wall with a stethoscope.