Untitled Song

• Written by 

I keep it real upon these streets of the future/
past skeletal hands that reach up from the sewers/
they'll drown in the saliva that I'm spewing about/
and then get washed out by mucus from the cumulus clouds/
I've been using my mouth to create more food/
that I can chew for about the next day or two/
it gets a little bit odd and then a little bit backwards/
see I studied the passage with a dimly lit lantern/
and I found every pattern in the writings on the walls/
from the greatest of the rappers that our times have ever spawned/
then I wrought new inventions through the cosmic congestion/
unorthodox scrawls that are sprawled in my bedroom/
But what the flying fuck do I know?
I'm just a rifle, that spits some random rhymes out/
But what the flying fuck do I know?
useless idol, just nonsense out of my mouth/
Take it from me, I'm just an abnormal guy/
that lugs around a dead star that I tore from the sky/
born as a fly, was always glued to the wall/
it was a boring disguise, and that's the truth of it all/
but I keep a sharp axe, and I clean my hard hat/
because I'm ready for work and I'm already berserk/
chopping down anything standing in a five mile radius/
incinerating flags of those wide eyed patriots/
and plagiarists that stand in the vector of the dangerous/
motherfucker, that trudges under nectars that I'm savoring/
I'm cradling my heart like I have no limits/
fucking punishing the beat, I'm an algophilist/
But what the flying fuck do I know?
I'm just a rifle, that spits some random rhymes out/

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About the Artist

Member since June 27 2015

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