Wild Thieves
• Written by Kalligraphy
Kalligraphy's Notes
This song is a proof why I am the best lyricist on RapPad and even amongst the greats.
This track is a poetic takedown of the music industry’s exploitation, told through layered metaphors and historical imagery. I use the “stagecoach” and “wild stallions” to symbolize how labels steal ideas like old-time robbers, killing wisdom without remorse. Bars play on homophones (Wyld Stallyns), double entendres (Oxford/Ox foot), and puppet imagery to expose how soulless forces control artists. It’s a lyrical protest, a philosophical manifesto, and a warning wrapped in wordplay.
A mass attack and plastering of scapegoats
Excluding out of top fives is your hate quote
A lotta fake hope during this revolution of what fate wrote
The swinging of daggers land and it’s straight throat
Keep out the untuned sound and the gates closed
And when the trail is agape and the people wade close
Keep an eye on the wild stallions behind our stagecoach
They rock heads without remorse with a strange rope
And lasso you and throw you into a pit where the plagues roam
No bravado when your running from the aged oak
Cuz you were blamed for opting out of an engaged oath
But you were only trying to thrive beyond the industry’s snake cloaks
Beyond the time of me is a hole of souls
A cold world full of bleeding and false hope
Keep the peace at the end of the credit roll
But everything before that let the fate enroll
Watch the karma that’s headed for your armour
It’ll kick back like Masutatsu Oyama
Disrupt the Dharma and face the hands of the Brahma
Now you can pillage it or cry for your mama
But I wouldn’t cuz the truth can stop crooks
Chase after it like a premeditated ox foot
You aim to be harder but I aim for Harvard
You need multiple degrees to match my heat
Cuz the Father and the nature can only annotate my drama
And I use that to bend arms inside of restraints
Like a brush strutting through the pallets of paint
Muralist putting art on the canvas making levergers
To the sun in the corner of the hard working settlers
To me increasing my flows with Ars Poetica
Now I can remain unfocused and stay as a messenger
Or be the king of this site and take down the pleasurers
Beyond the time of me is a hole of souls
A cold world full of bleeding and false hope
Keep the peace at the end of the credit roll
But everything before that let the fate enroll
Now can man be made and carved from a tree
Made without the veins, brain or artery?
Can the wild animals end up talking like me
Or will we forever remain the same with no advances in need?
Cuz you can be carved from God and be holy
But when the sparks charge and the scars read
You’ll need tape in your head to watch for those Car Thieves
Cuz honestly this renaissance is all ambiance
For us to be somber on the fact we’re falling on
Spikes that sit vertical at the bottom
And fall full throttle, penetrating our bottoms
And cap it of this like bottle, some escaped from the land of Sodom
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About the Artist
Kalligraphy
Member since March 31 2024