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Old 02-07-2013, 01:05 PM   #1
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Baron Mynd

  • Also known as Lars, Camarac, Brian Bryan, Clutterbuck and Robin Banks.
  • Active from 1999 to the present time.
  • Posted on RapBattles, RapMusic, 411Hype, MicFiends, LetsBeef, UrbanFlows, H2Flo, FiendWorld, D12World, UrbanProwlers, LyricOlympics, RipTheMic, ProjectRhyme, B-Boys, BeatsRhymesLife, RhymeNReason, MrBlunt, Rhymeology, CanibusCentral, Netcees, BragginWrites, ArtofBattling and others.
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Old 02-08-2013, 08:27 AM   #2
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The Nightmare Before Christmas

by Baron Mynd



Don’t you just fucking HATE it when Christmas arrives?
That meticulous time,
When soft mittens comprise, snowmen of formidable size ..
.. From the thickets of white,
Sitting astride, the distant horizon.
The winds cold, briskly respite, navigates deciduous pines ..
.. Whistling by,
On its mission-less guide, where with pure intuition it finds ..
.. A lonesome snowman,
That glistens with pride, deep in the dark midst of the night.
Abandoned by his creator,
The young girl was forced to kiss him goodbye ..
.. Leaving him cruelly exposed,
To the adoration of which he despised.
His movements restricted,
By the barren branches that stick from his sides ..
.. And so he sits in the silence,
Bitterly frightened, with his pummelled face missing an eye.

I used to love it.
Christmas had always been a favoured fixture of mine ..
.. And often I reminisce on the times,
When anticipation meant the hairs on my neck would bristle and rise.
Mother was quick to surmise,
That I had to be asleep before Saint Nick would arrive ..
.. But I’d sit with my eyes,
Firmly affixed to the blinds, awaiting the glorious gifts he provided.
I awoke, both betwixt with surprise, and of startled relief ..
.. Heading downstairs,
Where my father would be, clutching the star for the tree.
With his assistance,
I’d place it on top as he marvelled at me ..
.. Then open up my presents as I sat perched on the arc of his knee.
I made a metropolis,
From our laminate flooring that was sparkling clean ..
.. My remote control car,
Traversing the length of our house and all parts in between.
Elated rapture exuded,
From my smile in the most ardent of beams ..
But one year in particular,
I could sense the pretence in her parlance of glee.
It was only when I witnessed,
My dear Mother starting to weep ..
.. That I realised,
She was harbouring me, from the darkest of secrets…

And I guess this is where my hate of Christmas derives,
I was six at the time,
When it broke my heart into pieces.
My dear Mother tried her best to guard the fact,
She proved hard to crack,
And when she did – I still struggled hard to believe it.
All that me and Mommy could then do,
Was start from scratch,
The void left was filled with only stark incompleteness.
And this is why I fucking HATE it when Christmas arrives,
Cause now I’M the lonesome snowman,
Out in the dark midst of the night.
That puerile pile you’ll find out on the distant horizon,
Cold
Heartless
Unable to move on, and sitting in silence.
Abandoned by my creator,
But with his memory’s still rich in my mind,
I was six at the time,
And it broke my heart into pieces.
My dear Mother tried her best to guard the fact,
She proved hard to crack,
And when she did – I still struggled hard to believe it.
All that me and her could then do,
Was start from scratch,
The void left was filled with only stark incompleteness.
My father had died from a multiple heart attack,
And that’s why all I want for Christmas THIS year is my father back.

Peace.
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Old 02-11-2013, 07:56 AM   #3
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vs. Blanco Bishop (Swag & Flow) 2012

Acid-charged and camouflaged - I'm Dragonheart The Gatherer
A man apart who carries armoured cannons large enough to bring down Battlestar Galactica
Fangs as sharp as Dracula's; I've seen more Meth in the lab than when he and Redman's collabin'
I'll leave you dead in a casket, get up and laugh while full of more pills than Deborah Mathers' medicine cabinet.
I've had Jessica Rabbit selling her ass since she become a wayward addict who craves more
Inhaled the grams that she's paid for... Shit, her nasal passage has chased more dragons than St. George.
You'll get bodybagged for an eight ball. I'm dropping tags on the Great Wall visible from outside of the globe
The primary drone your Messiah was cloned from as scientists probed; My DNA's in binary code.
I'm as Sly as Stallone; Stood in black with the gloves to match, a Clubber Lang voiced henchmen
Who'll go running past, double back, then snuff your ass to cause a sub-arachnoid haemorrhage
A motherfuckers back on the streets after a week blasting the heat; They need tanks just to keep me imprisoned
Even an African weave couldn't tangle with me; I'm the savagest thing man has conceived since religion.
A gargantuan beast who's mandible feasts while pillaging Earth for everything that she's worth
Deactivating me's simply absurd; Like an unemployment agencies administrative clerk, I can give you the work...
Twisting the sherm like it's business as per; While you little goons have bricks to move I'm in a suit tailored by Versace
It's simple, duke. I'm quicker to call you a Jiggaboo than Jay did to Beyonce when he made her his fiance!
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Old 03-12-2013, 12:08 PM   #4
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12/03/2013

"Burning Bridges" Feat Flo Real


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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Old 03-12-2013, 12:11 PM   #5
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"The Flyest Since CopyPat!"


The dude’s mad eloquent, a boom bap specialist,
With true rap sentiments, my doorag’s evident,
Old skool cats reminisce at me flying the flag
Cos I inspired ‘em to rap & still got new jacks checking this...
I’m bring ciphering back, who said freestyling was wack!?
I use my mind as a pad when I’m writing a track.
Always got a mic in my hand, don’t try with me fam,
Wouldn’t scuff the side of my Vans to draw a line in the sand.
You bet your life I’m the man, the flyest since CopyPat,
And you’re right to acknowledge that ‘fore I find you a bodybag.
I’m applying for college grants while high like I’ve got a chance,
Lighting up chronic sacks that act like guides to the promised land.
You guys are just holograms, I see through your transparency,
Lucifer’s mad at me cos I raised hell & ruined his balance sheet.
I’m the looney who’ll stab ya niece, mixin’ juice up with anti-freeze,
Seeing you in your battle steez has me snoozin’ & catchin’ breeze...





Quick key. The flyest since CopyPat... Holla back!
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Old 03-12-2013, 12:13 PM   #6
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Doctor Doom on amphetamines


The original micfiend with formidable rhymeschemes. I grew sick of the lime green I used to call home, now that shit is behind me. I'm fooling. Although a lot of truth is said in jest. I'm an opportunist letting stress off so you can second guess my rotten mood, but never question what I do. It begs acceptance. Solitudes an endless sentence to a monster who blends dependency with wanting to pen relentlessly what bothers you exponentially. I've not got a clue what the hell it means. I'm Doctor Doom on amphetamines. I lock my room and attempt to sleep hoping the sonic-booms in my head'll cease before I jump off this roof just to get some peace. I'm seldom seen, yet everpresent. Evergreen and efflorescent. Went from a never been to textual legend between the ages of seventeen and twentyseven.
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Old 03-12-2013, 12:15 PM   #7
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"You Aside" Feat. Namix


"You Aside" - Feat. Namix

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Marvel comic books were the start. I’d got enough of my hard-earned pocket money to feed my addiction. Reading through fiction. Endeared to them instantly, I leafed through the pages in disbelief and amazement. Though my heroes were makeshift, these were the days when my life mirrored their own. Gifted. In control. Distinctive and bold. Instinctive, even though I was given a role to depict. It was so much more different. I had goals. I had Vision. There was no confidence trick. I had hope. I was vivid. A full blown optimistic. It was golden. I was in sync with the moment and I lived it, ‘til it was over.

you were the light in our eyes, you colored our face;
the wind beneath our wings…. and under our capes!
ya famous, known well! revealed yaself, the mask is fake;
ya came out of your shell, as we helped to crack the case.

never-mind our accolades; we’re the dreams u hadn’t saved
got stashed in a trash bin; as your back in that masquerade!
we’re the saints of tomorrow; save your praise for latter days;
cuz we swung from divine just to face the wrath of grapes.
see, we’re made of the character you seem to lack in ways;
so in disbelief, you had to leave;
…….but best believe, the magic stays.

Now I’m monochrome. I’m on my own. Pixelated. The ink has faded. I’ve gone and grown and got so old I’ve lost my soul like Rock ‘n’ Roll. The pictures faint. Disintegrating. I’m in a state of disrepair. My dictions dated. Reiterated. Within the page theirs hidden tears. My staples loose. I’m unattached. I’m tainted, chewed up, full of crap. I’m ancient, fruitless, rubber stamped. They take me, use me, put me back. I’m utter trash. I’m rubbish. Scrap. Unloved. The past. Forget about me. The pressure’s mounting. My head is pounding. Can’t let it out and it never ceases. I’ve begged and shouted, pled and weeped ‘til I’ve shed a thousand empty pleas. I’m dejected. Hounded. Empty. Drowning. Help me now, then… Let me be.

dismissed your conviction, we’re too bitter to win;
and too sour to speak of a mint condition we’re in.
you were once a conductor, but you’re now a puppet
who keeps forgettin his youth pursuing fountains of it!

from the valleys to summits, you scaled to plummet.
too attuned to a tune that the fat lady aint sung yet!
if you said it, you done it ; it smarts, you’re the dumbest
son, summon some courage from that pit in ya stomach!
in a crowd of ten hundred the wisest one is the youngest
cowards are known to take their life,
….but heros know what they took away from it!

No tortured soul should walk alone. After all, I know, I wont be missed. I’m slowly sinking. Cold. I’m finished. Loneliness is closing in. I’m broken, twisted, old I’m sick. Malodorous and over with. I’m droll, I’m slipping. Scolded, distant. Motionless and frozen stiff. I’m bone and limb. I’m blood and tissue. I’m toes and fingers. I’m muscle tissue. I’ve no existence. I’m ghostly. Grisly. Unwholesome. Filthy, tired & I’m weak. I’m woeful, stagnant, quiet and serene. I’m a growing cancer. Silent. I’m asleep. I’m a closing casket. I’m finally at peace. I’m suicidal with my ethos doing battle with my will. I’m the Jagged Little Pill that Alanis didn’t swill. I can’t handle this, it’s killing me. I need to find escape. I am languorous. I’m history. I’m bleeding. Dying. Fake. I am vacuous. I’m misery. I’m evil. I am hate. My only chance left is to quit, to leave, for me to find my way…

you once lived in the moment.. ya, life, it’s in tense;
yet ya lost all ya good sense along with ya innocence.
we were larger than life but much smaller than livin it
so here’s the truth, if ya less interested in what fiction is:

we DID mirror your existence… reflect on it, reminisce!
we ARE your story, and we’re precisely as you pictured it!
all the heros and every villain, no figure is figurative!
then one day reality hit & ya forgotten how to scissor kick!
see, no crime is victimless – so just believe in us a little bit;
cuz we believe in you…
and’ll have an answer to ya problem when the latest issue hits!
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Old 03-12-2013, 12:17 PM   #8
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"Lover Haters" Feat. CopyPat

"Lover Haters" - Feat. CopyPat

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Baron:
New flavor of the month. The true player ladies want. Soothsayer with so much game, I'd caught her with a smile. If I talked to her a while, she'd wish I'd walk her up the aisle. I'm an author. I'm a stylist. I'm a thousand different lies. I'm the loud-mouth spitting rhymes to the crowd she's with outside. You're the clown who sympathizes with her after I'm done. When she's down you bitches try to play the man she should love. I'm at the back of the club, that male chauvinist pig flossin', while chatting it up with Copy's chick, just to show him I've still got it!

Copy:
Loaded and pissed off, crashin the party. Go to just swig shots, actin retarded. I’m after the hotties with the naturalist bodies. Motive to get sauced and bag me a shawty. I’m basically prowling when I’m eyeing this whore. Flagrantly fouling when I’m trying to score. I’m the eye of the storm when I’m talkin a little. A mess on the outside but I’m calm in the middle. My confidence bristles when I wanna get with it. I’m talkin to bitches but they do not even listen. And the common denominator in all a this business is all of the alcohol that I’m constantly drinkin.

Baron:
The gift of the gab's just this thing that I've had before I knew of its name. Don't over-think it. Relax when talking to her. Be patient. Listening's actually all it usually takes if you're with it and tactful in your pursuit of the game. It's as simple as that and as complex as you make it, to get a chick in the sack with irreverent statements. I'll be chilling out back having a drink with the lads, when I'll get a text from one saved in as "Whatever-Her-Name-Is". I can't remember their faces, just their asses and body types. I've slept with 'em ranging from bad bitches to college tykes. From bedrooms to basements and every place in between, but it's an effort maintaining and changing the sheets!

Copy:
Number one mack daddy, somersault back bending in the back of my Chevy, hunched and all that sweating.. is foggin the windows, the mirror and the chrome. I brought the essentials: the beer and Patron. You can hear the bitch moan when I’m puttin in work, from here to the road. Shit I’m goin berserk. Bonkers, bananas, I’m wild and I’m zany. I conquered ya asses, vagina's and anus. Defiling and tainting, I find it degrading. Woman are the canvas see.. I finished off this masterpiece by finally spraying. Signing the painting with my signature of splatting seed. The eyes of my lady are filling up, it’s rapidly blinding. She’s making me give a fuck.. I’m actually trying to basically give it up. But that would be lying, a fate that I didn't trust. Cause Pat is the guy who just hates that he is in love.
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Old 03-12-2013, 12:20 PM   #9
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"Fuck a 9 to 5, I'd sooner bust a rhyme online!"

Black shirt, white tie. Passwords. Five tries. At work, time flies. Energy drinks are the remedy. Stimulating my memory. Thinking. Wake up and then I sleep. No rest for the wicked. Code red. This is business. Notes left on the fridges doors. I won't stress. I'll just give a call back and explain in jargon as plain as Martian. Paper. Sharpeners. A hole-punch. I've paid for garbage the whole month. "You're late,". Regardless, I've shown up. I want a bigger office space to sit in while I'm off my face. Hidden. Boxed in. Lost for days. No realistic options. Coffee tastes like Styrofoam. Dock my pay. It's time to go. Silent. Moping. Driving home with a scowl to greet the missus instead of showering her with kisses. The hours deplete in minutes. I’m out of my league. I fidget with the pen and pad left in hand while drawing an incessant blank. This never happens. Writers block. I’m getting cramp while rifling off these letters and I’d like to stop. My head is banging. I’m tired of signing forms, typed reports and supplying calls to faceless suits. They’re dinosaurs who’ve paid their dues to climb the corporate déjà vu.
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Old 03-12-2013, 12:20 PM   #10
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Home Is Where The Heart Is

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It’s my living quarters, a place to stay. It’s bricks and mortar. Vacant space I sit in bored from day to day. It’s windows. Doors. It’s smoke-stained ceilings. It’s timber floors in no way heated. It’s cold, grey evenings. The damp is rising. This lonely feeling just amplifies it. It’s standard sized. The lighting works. The bathrooms fine, I don’t mind the dirt. There’s no blinds or curtains, roof tiles are missing. No outside conversions. No stylish kitchen. Just piles of dishes I’ve left to clean. There are nice additions. There are steps that creak. There’s a bed to sleep in but the springs are broken. There’s expensive leaks and you think I’m joking! The sink has mould in, but the stairs have carpet, and this is home. This is where my heart is.
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Old 03-12-2013, 12:21 PM   #11
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Tales from the equipped

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I’m the callous on your heel, I’m the anger that you feel. I’m the grease within your pores. I’m lacking in appeal. I’m the teeth that you ignore. I’m saccharine. I’m sclera. My features are deformed. I’m rancorous. I’m evil. I’m greedy and I’m coarse. I’m devious and haunted. Bleeding at the core. I’m seething, ceaseless, tortured. I’m needy and I’m awkward, teeming and I’m taunted. A demon. Beat. Exhausted. I’m sleazy and appalling. I’m uneasy. Unsupportive. I’m ingenious. Abortive. I’m queasy, feeling nauseous. Bleak, diseased and caustic. Weak, depleted, chloric. Incomplete, defeated, stormy, cheapened, breached and tawdry. Beastly, peeling, gaudy. I’m unfeeling, fiendish, morbid. Impeded, lesioned, sordid. Illegal, mistreated, lurid. Misleading, jeered and torpid. Deceitful, I’m weird, contorted, unclean and I’m dreary, boring. I’m weary, in tears, I’m nothing. Yet it’s me you appear in love with.


MORE QUICK SHIZZ, ONE SITTING, HOLLA ATCHA BOI!
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Old 03-12-2013, 12:22 PM   #12
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"The Return"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A glow the hue of cobalt-blue accompanied it's bleeped, deft, vestige...
Alerting the dexterous thumbs of middle-management to the fresh presence of a text message.
Despite his best efforts in ignoring its incredulous sound,
He let it ring out,
While the cellphones face lit up and beamed brightly -
Much like his own as he read it aloud.
Before he jettisoned down the steps of his house,
With steeled eyes affixed on "Cn we meet up 2day?"
Needless to say his cellphones screen had relayed
the text message up on its scenic display.
His demeanour then changed with immediate haste
as the astute businessman seemed to pause,
And glean in thought,
with his smile opening upwards much like his lavish Lamborgini doors.
When reaching for his handheld phone,
Its shells chrome cradled in his massive hands,
Activating its Sat Nav feature which mapped and planned
his route around the interference of traffic jams.
Its navigation kept him a happy man,
and he placed his trust in its alert settings,
Yet he never lacked a sense of direction when it came to his work ethic.
He'd exert effort and deserved merit
for the enthusiasm he brought with him each day,
Yet the phone he owned had slowly grown from a must-have gadget to a portable PA.
It would order the names of clientele all by itself,
placing them right at his fingertips,
And provided a valueable lifeline while he was away from
the heartbeat of family life on business trips.
He missed his kids,
and thoughts of being unfaithful had never entered the affairs in his head,
Though when his wife rang,
he'd joke it was just him and Sam Tsung who were sharing a bed.
There was unbearable stress in his job,
which he somehow encumbered with verity,
Though his phones hundred 'accessories', had gradually become a necessity.
He had just sprung from the mezzanine
with his mobile's status set to ignore,
When it had dawned on him just how rarely he spoke to anyone in the flesh anymore.
He'd send them plethoras of texts,
but never remember to call or include his friends,
And so their friendships grew as empty and
non-commital as the exchange of messages they used to send.
His afternoons were spent in board meetings bored out of his skull,
Sat with accountants so dull,
he almost found it insulting how long they took to ground out results.
He found them repulsive,
a complete corporate clothes rack of faceless shirted males,
Who believed a child's concerning wail
was but an unwanted distraction in the heady world of sales.
Words had failed him as he again stared down at his phone with hard tenacity,
While wishing he could plug himself into the mains
to recharge his batteries.
But then he started panicking, while so tense his insides were shaking,
After realising his dependence on technology had meant he was isolated.
You could sense he was tired of waking up to the empty side of a bed,
And the countless nights that he'd spent away from the wife he'd neglect.
He wanted to see his children smiling again,
And to engage them in the vibrance of speech,
To make face-to-face contact without always having to lie through his teeth.
But by the time that he'd reached this conclusion and had his eyes opened,
The phone was flung in a volatile motion, then left lying with its insides broken.
With the device motionless on the floor,
he stood over the case of its remains,
As a sense of freedom fought for position against the determination in his veins.
And from that day he would change
as he prioritised the life that he lived,
He worked in a environment where time is money...
...but what price do you place on spending time with your kids?
It finally hit him that that which cost nothing but time to produce,
Could be invaluable,
Irreplaceable,
Even priceless to you.
And that night was amusing after the days upturned events,
Because the children didn't receive your standard SMS reply -
Their father was returned to them.




Peace.





Old shit. Dug it up from '09, don't think I ever posted it here?
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Old 04-05-2013, 02:13 AM   #13
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a feel a little doper just reading this you sick sick bastard.
never saw the doctor doom one before: straight puke
others are very familiar classics that i loved
didn't read the long ones obviously.. c'mon
u got the paragraph steez down to a science, thats the illness for real
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Old 04-05-2013, 06:50 AM   #14
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We crushed Love(r) Haters, yo.

We should do it up again soon.
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Old 04-08-2013, 11:22 AM   #15
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Love is a game as couples we play when were stuck in our ways and too stubborn to change. Love is the way you now look in her face with utter distain and nothing to say. Love is amazing, love isn't great. Love is frustrating, there's love in the hate. Love is the waiting, love is the chase. Love is you waking up to her gaze. The guttural pangs and fluttering state as butterflies take off in your stomach again. Love is the pain you've suffered, mistakes, troubles you've faced, every hug and embrace. Love is a game as couples we play when were stuck in our ways and too stubborn to change...



2011
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Old 04-08-2013, 11:23 AM   #16
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N-E-T-C-E-E-S-.-C-O-M

The ticking time bomb with an IPod attachment. Living rhyme God. A savage when I switch the mind off. Average if I try jotting patterns into fine blocks of multisyllabics while lost zigzagging through my thoughts. This happens. I sign off. Quit rapping and I'm gone. Til I sit scratching at my noggin and I think back to when time was that I did actually try logging in to diss faggots like "Why not?" So I'm sat click-clacking at my comp and before I know it, I've already clicked back on the icon.
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Old 04-08-2013, 11:24 AM   #17
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It would be easy to say this world, at its core, is rotten.
All too often countries brave their thick-skinned exteriors when short of options.
With their ethos built tall on softened beds of timely tradition,
The sizeable schisms you find that are missing,
Help create only divide and division.
So then why have we bitten off more than we can physically chew,
To then stare at the apple of our eye with such severely limited views?
We live to consume from the pith to the roots we duly source,
Which proves of course that through discourse this requires serious food for thought.
The hour will come when our devouring gums will bite down on our own misfortune,
If we fail to behold the warnings to the grown importance of Global Warming.
We'll see the icecaps slowly thawing as the temperature rises,
Then as it heightens each ocean will be swallowed up, leaving a desert behind it.
The apples resemblance is frightening, seeing how its former seas have emerged left...
...with dry, barren, troughs surrounding continents scorched a deep and burnt red.
And even worse yet, it's too late to peel back this globally grave intrusion.
But it's state has proven the apples gravitas hasn't been observed since the days of Newton.
The fruits of our labour sustained a bruising which blackened the world economy,
And cast an ominous shadow over the darkest fears of the concerned majority.
Politicians searched to assert authority with
downtrodden souls beneath their gleaming shoes.
As they were presented with this fruitful subject -
One they could all sink their teeth into.
But the medias view has grown tedious through the worlds economic state,
So this modest break wont be served to them on silver platters -
But on the worlds tectonic plates.
What a waste of the vast creative juices our rich planet has secreted in soil,
As Russian billionaires needlessly toil deeper for oil -
Just to keep on reaping the spoils.
Which keeps us embroiled in a fruitless farce to help ease our sudden thirst,
While the seeds of change become seeds of doubt in the ripened ovaries of Mother Earth.
To look at first it would be easy to say this world, at its core, is rotten
But all too often countries brave their thick-skinned exteriors when short of options.
We're always watching when the world's a stage where EVERYBODY has a part to produce,
And whoever said we have the whole world in our hands, wasn't far from the truth...
What once started with few whole-heartedly grew to billions in density,
And while an apple scoffed in a day keeps the doctor away -
An eco-friendly planet offers your grand-children prosperity.
With a little will and integrity we can help to restore the world we bestowed,
And see it flourish under our watchful gaze as we nurture it's growth.
If we worked as a whole purposefully though without neglect,
Then we could finally give new meaning to the term greenhouse effect...
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Old 04-08-2013, 11:25 AM   #18
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Black D put up a piece called "A Thousand Faces". I felt inspired. Here you go:


"A Thousand AND ONE Faces!"

iAm,

The government AIDS, belligerence in the blood of a slave,
The child in Haiti that could only watch while others were saved -
from the rubble then cradled, cuddled and praised
...The guttural quake havin' devoured all that stood in its way.
I'm the dream that crumbled away along with the place,
She rhapsodicly called home before its summit was razed...
The punishin' gaze of the sun that broke the camel's back,
Lifeless hand of Charles de Menezes as it holds his haversack.
The lowly camera flash blamed when Diana was murdered.
Change of name to Windsor at unrest the Royal Family was German...
I planned the diversion, I'm the bullet the force and the gun
The outpouring of blood that deprived Afeni Shakur of her son.
The warden in Scum...
As brutalised by the system inside as the prisoners.
The attempts to silence his wisdom and Litvinenko's defiant resilience...
those who die of attrition, the west's reluctance to stop 'em from starvin'
- Both Robert Mugabe and every last one of his army.
I'm the shot of Bacardi that pushed Andrew Curwell over the edge,
The scalpel probin' the death of Heath Ledger before his global success...
I'm opium fresh from the poppy fields of Afghanistan,
And those who made heroes of the Mujahiddin, now fearing the Taliban -
concealed within Pakistani borders plotting at will...
The corpse of Madeline McCann rotting in filth on top of a hill.
The hospital bill to fight superbugs their cleaners created,
syringe that gleamed with the painless resolve Harold Shipman metered to patients.
I'm the Indonesian faces the tsunami had wiped out,
A thousand eyes blinking in unison ..
and I'm watching you right now.
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Old 04-08-2013, 11:25 AM   #19
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"Unstoppable" Feat. Iglos and NinjaMic

-((Ninja))-
...in the back of my mind I think had an epiphany
so I had to pioneer originality and master it instantly
I've seen everything that will happen after infinity
the afterlife is the only place to channel me spiritually
only Achilles had the agility and a natural ability
to have a half a chance of surpassing me physically
pass me a symphony to see it massacred lyrically
inspire artists to paint after they imagine my imagery
it can't be reproduced, like a man lacking fertility
reengineer genetics to alter anatomy's fragile stability
a fanatical madman, Mengele's answer to mystery
never allowed my evil twin to advance past his infancy
salivate PH levels that perfectly balance acidity
no serotonin inhibitors will help to handle your misery
trying to practice humility but I laugh at stupidity
I answer any amateur's audacity with ample artillery
in all actuality, this animosity acts as the epitome
of the massive amount of vernacular I pack in a simile
economic bankruptcy cannot cancel or limit me
long as I send verses in a properly packaged delivery
my family tree still standing, sanctioned in Sicily
only bitch could carry my seed is the Statue of Liberty

-((Baron))-
These rappers are killing me! Sounding wacker on finished fea-
tures than the instrumentals they happen to spit and speak
on with vapid deliveries. Clad in their skinny jeans,
hat that's been fitted teamed for swagger with Timbs. It seems
they lack the affinity which rapping would give to me
back in my infancy. Now every albums a swift release
pre-packaged with mimicry and tracks with no synergy.
They've sold the last of their dignity and mastered it digitally.
Now they're a fad in an industry that acts as a big machine
they're contracted to sit and feed, but sacked if they disagree.
Their plastic humility having landed them inbetween
the path to timidity and the back of a limosine.
They're lambs to the guillotine.
Only management intervenes when matters turn bittersweet.
Then it's back to the little leagues.
Having sold the last of their dignity and mastered it digitally...

-((Iglos))-
Say what you want but the sun'll still shine
always raw like Thor bring thunder in rhymes
I swear to fuckin' god men are dumb an' all blind
unaware of the depth that is under my lines
witty an' gritty style, call it slummy with grime
I laugh at the naive who are stunned by our crimes
lyrical magic, my flow is summoned with chimes
adapt an' move on, become one with the times
or don't cope an' smoke dope getting' numb off of wine
so sick of politicians, and their gluttonous pride
It's like I'm shackled down up in a dungeon inside
..stuck at a stand-still, wont run or abide
test my with a flow and you'll get hung while you cry
most stay in poverty, but some will get by
and very few care, they just wanna' get high
I make beats all day, on the drums I get live
writing is my drug, I get strung out on mics
you better than 'glos.. phst.. fuckin' yeah right
each word is like sword, so come get swung on with might
line up 1,000 emcees, I'll leave none in ya sight
the youth today are raised, by scum it's a plight
but I really don't care... 'cuz all I want is to write
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Old 04-08-2013, 11:26 AM   #20
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---


"Affair Of The Heart"


"Adrian, there's something I need to ask you...
...Are you having an affair?"
"What? No, of course no, how could you even say that?"
"Adrian, wait, it's just that things have been..."

* Door slams shut *


Slowly you pick up the broken, jagged, pieces of your heart from the floor. And it's hard to ignore the silent sobs your partner deplores. As tumbling tears travel her weary wrinkles. Leaving scars of remorse. You pause for a second as the ball lands hard in your court. "Adrian, wait!" the woman cries "please give it another try,". And you gulp anxiously as you stare into your ex-lovers eyes. Their pale, sullen, guise seems to trick you again. As you stand their helplessly, hoping the howling winds will whisk you away. Because you're a man, and your too proud to admit your mistakes. That's when it hits you. The soft, sobering, kiss of the rain. Droplets are hitting the pavement as you lock lips with Lorraine. And the thought of make-up sex is all that sticks in your brain. As you count down the hours until you can see her sister again...


Heh.



----


[img]
http://www.funerella.com/graphics/graveyard/albums/gothic/winter8st2qw1ro.jpg[/img]
.
.
.

Do you remember when you would call me yours?
When I was the savvy sailor navigating those stormy shores;
And you were the burlesque barmaid we all adored,
The first female that I’d fallen for...


“...All aboard!”


...I guess I’d always been too afraid of letting go;
‘Cos you never know what can happen when you’re caught in the ebb and flow.
But I was carried away by the current and swept to the side;
Where I found myself drowning in the deepest, dark, depths of your eyes.
As their replenishing grace lashed over me,
I embraced it strong,
And with a sharp intake of breath, I would gladly take the plunge.
You were the mermaid on the barnacled buttresses I braved collision,
As I courageously steered my stern vessel on its maiden mission.
But simultaneously I found myself in a strange position;
Because I’d always been careful not to go overboard with inane decisions.
Yet our relationship was as open and free as the oceans and seas;
From the moment you seized my heart,
Gone were my loneliest needs.
And I was thrown in the deep end where you left me amazed;
Where I leapt in elation while riding on the crest of that wave.
I was so desperate to make a splash, I kid you not, I did the lot...
...As you were the beacon up in the lighthouse,
That guided my ship to dock.
But I soon found it wasn’t all plain sailing attached to you;
Even though I’d gladly choose to do what you asked me too...
...And sometimes I’d call you a “Beach” behind your back, it’s true.
But much like the incoming tide,
I’d come crawling back to you.
Yet there was a lot more to me than the guy you’d always see;
Beneath the calm surface lay a cold, scathing, storm at sea...
...You’d drifted into the arms of another as I watched you float;
And up fecal firth with no paddle,
I decided to rock the boat.
But my emotions turned like the tides, and I fostered regrets...
...As you probed my turbulent mind, for what had got me upset.
And then I watched as you wept, on the docks with the jetty;
Before dragging your body down to those same rocks where you met me...
And waves of anger crashed over me alone where we stood;
As I thought to myself “If I couldn’t have you, then nobody would.”
But I was already in too deep,
And that much I’d admit.
I tried pushing her onto the rocks, but during the struggle – I slipped!
And I fell backwards, hearing her gasping screams suddenly stop,
As I hit the ground –The true meaning of Love On The Rocks.
Now I’m just deadwood,
Tossed and thrown around these stormy shores...
...And you’ll forever be the only female I’ve fallen for.
But you’ll never wash my blood from your hands,
No matter what you pass them through.
And much like the incoming tide,
I’ll come crawling back for you...


Beach.
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