THE OPEN MIC CYPHER

[Urban Dialect]

I'm back bitch, shoes in the middle of the floor, clothes everywhere/ hanging out the basket, smells like weed when you pass it, the headache starts creeping back in, there's so much heat and passion, but little thing keep adding, till you're asking me to subtract this and that out my life, till I'm not me anyone more and basically, I'm absent, I'm not having it!

[Bodey]

i don't have to be elaborate, it's not like i'm the baddest bitch to set foot in this rappin clique. i'm waitin for some inspiration, somethin amazin that i can clutch onto like that red box fulla raisins, that you'd finish and whistle through, uncourageous kids who had no one to listen to. the finest of the latchkey kids who werent exactly passionate, but knew to bring you up as soon as you're harassed and shit. talkin shit all day, but in the end we always had you. this is for my neighborhood kids, cuz in the end, we always had you

[Urban Dialect]

I've always been bad news like a natural disaster that causes the traffic to start jamming like everyone's listen to toons while stranded, trapped in the path of a typhoon, sending the masses into panic, got them wearing face mask to protect them from the airborne pathogens I spit when I'm rapping like this, ignoring the scabs on your clit while tongue kissing your vaginal lips, after this? roll a blunt, hit it, then pass it to a friend, you can see how close we are by the rashes on our skin, it looks like we're covered in dragon scales, we could even pass for lizardmen, I'm in a lab like a chemist who's interested in dissecting your brain using musical instruments