Supa T:
it's the psychedelic phlegm lord,
space walk boogie don,
shadow king telepath, fuck telecom,
hundred hand clapper rapper,
spud shoulder grudge holder,
half pint o whisky with a shot of coca-cola,
light-weights lashed off a sip,
clockin' my cypher,
blaze saddles like Gene. Wilder
it's the sun rider,
sick-arse sound provider,
one man tornado,
nose-smashing tracks like tony nueallo,
machismo schizo, sensitive with ammo,
top-cat close friends get to call me django,
white mans play Dibble, shove ya 2nd hand right rule book
straight up your arse now play second fiddle.
it's that simple, bear-hug precussion,
time for headz to do somethin',
waiting on a black russian,
jehst, kyza, harry love hold a hevyweight phrase,
i done blaze with MK, since always ken days,
shout to big john, that's right, never stops,
bods got pranged like they smoked off of twenty rocks,
can't prevail digi like electric scales,
i spit back liquid, surf tsunamis on a killer-whale,
you understand me sharp like rap CDT stanley,
so all you fucking emcees switch to plan b!
django van smash the world til the world knows,
you think it's easy?- you can come and smell my work clothes!
CHORUS:
yo.. Always wtch for the spies, and the ones who kanive,
tryna do all to survive, understand it's all alive
Jehst:
i do this for hermits with herb habits who burn cabbage,
green-bag gatherin', batterin' earth language,
the most heavy handed wrapped in a dirt bandage,
slappin' a verse amateurs learn my words challenge,
the gem-drop, greasy hand in the pen-pot,
pent-up stress fot jehst bunnin' fresh crops,
red-hot rapper, green cross on my veg plot,
hedge-hop allotments, bop on cement blocks,
players get sent off! they feel like they know
where they are but they're still in a sense lost,
ten spots get twisted up like dread-locks,
head-nod hip-hop fresh from tha sweat-shop,
it's slave labour, we chase paper,
the snail's paced trail-blazer,
on a 5-foot hot-step, a long haul for the box-fresh,
sandstone body-rock, deeper than loch ness,
connect like lennon 'n' mcartney, master bare palmed
barbwire origami, army fatigue clan,
fingerz deep in the weedsack,
free-hand scribble, paint dribble on a neat tag,
alot of people need feedback,
squeeze the caffeine outta teabags,
break out of rehab, finger tap-tappin'
on the key-pad typewritin'; hi-lighting
the strength of a rhyme tightened!
CHORUS X2
Kyza:
i'm in another plain, rugged terrains,
where i explore, and study laws,
ancient wars and folk-lore,
my sweat pours through pores,
as i walk the hills and moors,
openin' lock doors,
with the keys that dreams forge.
lessons are taught,
but still knowledge is sought,
and faces contort from the
wounds n battles fowt,
more souls died at dawn,
as orphans cryed and mourn,
clothes ragged and life's edges
are jagged and worn,
a rebel without cause
with no pause for thought,
i'm mentally distraught,
plus no brevs support,
when escape attempts from
my prison amount to nought,
it's my feelings that these demons
while here extort,
the blood draws as my fists pound
the brick walls,
i curse the earth as me
and lucifer lock horns,
i swore to the lord
and my soul once before,
that i would rid earths shores
free from devil spawn
and kids born from wars
with snake tongues and claws
open sores raw, and spit
drips from their jaws,
the visual lies blind the eyes of the poor,
young kings and queens being used as pawns,
but the price of my life
is much more than i can afford.
so satans call at all times must be ignored.
i stand unsure in my hand a bloody sword,
i can't absorb all the trauma i've endured,
as i retrace steps on lawns walked on before
where shattered dreams lay fragmented on the floor.
all in all im in mental free-fall,
but my thoughts soar with the speed of concordes,
i can't make sense of distorted metaphors,
that are stuck in my mind like daggers swords and thorns,
these unsteady hands, jaded pictures are drawn,
by the child of corn his mental fabric is torn.