Tuesday, 1 May 2012


I am taking a break from the blog today as I have been working on a new song. It is now complete so I thought I'd share the song & lyrics. Diggit!!!


Well it's been a long time since I went on a tangent-
and just ran shit and ranted ad libs/
And flapped these lips-hear me run these jibs 
you duck the lunging spits- and dodge the talking shit/ 
The puck drops but you ain't making the playoffs 
My days off i rap my fucking face off/
No reason for me rhymin and no rhymin to my reason 
just hooting the trees and then I'm shooting the breeze/
I couldn't move emcees Who said I had no flow 
i couldn't prove to the industry that I could be gold/
I'd grab a mic and go- a motor mouthed mutherfucker 
Spitting 64 bars with absolutely no structure/
Off my black cap- improv  mad crap
And still told a story better than your  grandpap/  
never singing  no rhythms never bringing so gimmicks 
Just ripped like Mach spitz in the fuckin flo lympics/
The critics wanna diss how I flip routines/
But I got metal in my blood  and upped the technical degrees/
I gotta spit 16s and come correct with a hook
back in the days I'd just blaze a few pages out my ( rhyme) book/
now look how times flies and my how things change 
I never took no shorts and kept on playing the game/
And ran trains on microphones howling like a lycanthrope 
Hurricane theo now im coming like a cyclone/
Makin beats on my own down in the necropolis
Greek kids STILL call me Don Theodoropolus/
You never topple this mount Olympus 
So count the bitches who be down with my sickness/
Lyrical syphilis like spreading the disease
But I come harder than anthrax attacking killer b's/
Ain't never slacking on my steez u ain't prepared to face me 
Night breed and the tribes of the moon embrace me/
Im super crazy an insane luchadore
My moves are crazy I brainbust ya through the floor/
Figure fours and still strangle with mic cords
Singapore canes  and power bombs onto spiked boards/
That's how I kill the poor call me Dead Kennedy
Or better yet Predator collecting heads of enemies/
Never went public cus I'm stuck down in Midian
Motherfuck  the public ( cus)  they don't get what I'm giving them/
Another villain who be filling up disk space
I'm misplaced  like your 80s mix tapes/
Still punch lines while your trying to sniff base
dumping on your mind so I'm calling you shit face/
Ain't never disgraced my love of the art form still
cumming strong like pornstars in  hardcore/
Gonna  wet ya like a blonde toy who fuck and fucks
"so what the bumba clot boy buck buck buck buck "/

 My studios the most ghetto in the history of rap 
I pay zero while your paying 350 a track/
80% of what i hear cant hold a candle to that 
You ain't believing what your hearing so I bring it on back/
My studios the most ghetto in the history of rap 
Yet I get kudos for my sound meanwhile you pay to sound wack/
80% of what i hear cant hold a candle to that 
You ain't believing what your hearing so I bring it on back/

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