A brand-new original rap. Could potentially be the album title should I make 7 to 10 more songs...
Perhaps I'll start with a simple mix-tape. Potentially send it to prospective labels and see what they think of it.
Been practicing rapping everyday, however! And I'm definitely improving. Practice makes perfect... and I'm lookin' to get the virtuoso 10,000 hours.
The lyrics are as follows:
I work the syllables like I'm shifting the dirt,
The girth is broken, so I talk to the widow who flirts with death
Intentional mention, pursuit of prevention to tension in slacked-off
Cords of control
Felt the car start to roll as I felt what foretold the old prophecy
Woah is me
Keep me sleeping, keep me beat
I've got feet that reek of monotony
Can't keep the thought of lost love from feeling steeped
In a darkly lit room where the broom broke the brittle back
Of the old deities, saw that I schivied back to square one
Where the drug said 'you're done with the fun,'
Get back to psychoanalytics before you realize the true
Potential of irrelevant elephants in the room
Keeping us occupied till we hit the red light at our tomb,
Now I will remember the old mans laugh
As I watched him write his own epitaph
And I will remember your hand in mine
And Kahlil Gibran lead me back to infinite
Reality,
Contracting me like I own the saddled heave of sanity
My saddned heave of air unbreathed
The oxygen I have retrieved from the Kleenex
of text messages vexed in premeditation to check the wreck of connection.
Mention elections and the fences will fall with the fancy
I'm dancing, the sanction imposed on Iran in a slam dunk capacity
In which I ate the last of the unrenewables to vulnerable to the words of old.
Now I fold the page in origami
Born not of vanity but a kind sort of profanity
We foretold the coming of which is simply a glitch
Up in this bitch we call cultural kids.
The skids.
Wait for a day to die, that day is now,
Kung fu ka-pow oh wow I feel the sweat on my brow,
Did you smell that?
Shock indoctrination in my felt hat,
I felt that,
Got the bat who dresses like a man
And flies around defeating crime
The grime
Old slime, I rhyme on time to mine own beats and try to slide like soap in the sky,
Oh my.
Kiss the capo,
It's got the quarter quarter to keep with its musical note beats,
Creeps got me keeping locks on my socks to remain in tact
Like a fact
Tracked dirt into the room, didn't mean to spoon the old irrelevant events
of the Big Bang, Big Crunch, small breakfast, big lunch.
I caught a case of the mumps when a hunch told me you were sinching the last of civility out of me,
A real MC I suppose
But I don't wish to impose my ego
On top of your sea-going vessel
A ship in the harbor is safe but the ship was designed to explore
To gain more, to get sore, to feel fact and fiction
Collide.
Now I will remember the old mans laugh
As I watched him write his own epitaph.
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