Over 16,539,254 people are on fubar.
What are you waiting for?
 |
Audiogasm
I can't pay my rent, but I'm fucking gorgeous. I got big lungs that could kill your chorus. Tell me something I don't know. You can't... 'cause you don't.
|
|
|
But I can, like a veteran, better plan, I leave your whole mind blownt... I've grown, accustomed to bustin on, those little somethins of nonsensical nothins songs, signals and tells, lyrics compelled, instrumental as hell, leads you to listen up well, when the melody kick in- it gels, some Gfunk whistles and bells, this miss is top of the shelf, let those inhibitions stop and just melt, superstitions and spells, can't complete with pistols and shells, my position is self, on a mission for wealth, I never had a pot to piss in- it smells. these days shit is different, cos my distance is held, and this is cos bitches like to hit kids below a dude's belt, I stay underground like the velvet, smooth and hope my fiber is felt. soul survivor, burn my bible, too prideful for help.
 |
 |
I'd rather do for others, than do for self - that's my inner-peace, my mental health. "There's just somethin' about you." I'm deeper than a well. I'mma nurture my pack; all these worldly concerns can go to Hell. "I like the way you speak." Then, wait 'til I exhale. I can carry the world on my back, and I can do it well. I'm the salt of the earth - you rot the flavor from ya' self. I play the cards I was dealt. I'm all in, it's hard, but it helps - to walk in faith; my swagger is wealth. If I get hungry, I just tighten my belt. They could burn the Bible, I'll just go west like Denzel, stay my course, there's no need to bail. Ba'al tried to steal my thunder; it's no accident I grind in stealth - it's a miraculous wonder. I carry the Word in me, and everything that's not of the Word will be ripped assunder. |
|
|
here comes another glorious blister ball, listening to lykke im likely to let it fall, stoppin is not an option, this is not a casting call, you put out, dirt up on yer fabric like fuck yo couch, with no doubt "what im s'possed to do bout my legs charly murphy!? and still spouts, nonsense in a sensible sense yet still commendable, dangling from my bars, realizing yer expendable, expansion in my topics leads scholars to jock the mandible, avant garde extension of expression yet understandable... |
|
|
uncanny cannibal flow, dammit that man- be the Drow, and Savv-rock the bro, the American Psycho, who's liable, to hurl stones at those, like catapults to distant foes, we throw these blows, over instrumentals, the body is our temple, but fundamental is the mental, my manner gentle, up on a pedestal, but a little fuckin judgmental, sometimes sappy and sentimental, and if I offend you- it was totally accidental, I'm one hell of a friend though, pat my self of the back, I love myself and it shows, life can be so simple...as the song goes. |
|
|
-єคςђ1tєคςђ1-
and as simple as it is, is as simple as we keep it, alotta cats walk around thinkin that yer boy's preachin, but alas im just teachin, prose in the flow, pro's as to drow is to pro-fession'oh, no he didnt, know that the lessons that he's speakin's worth keepin..im prolly jus geekin..like yer prolly home sleepin..poison to the souls only purpose is to weaken, slap ya with some syllables like ya head against some cement, so i says what i meants and meant what i says in every instance...compliments the instruments my intellects a detriment to suckas damn straight i meant it when i said it.. |
|
|
ANT ᵀᴴᴱ ЯANT
straight bull-headed, high octane unleaded, I charge it, to my credit, you gotta have that credit, with some 'bility, gifted, rap steez, delivery, we drop bombs, like military facilities, all else be coming after me, proxy, or secondary, to my squadron, the BKP-society, we keep battle ready, game on, no time for practicing, attack with chivalry, Don Juan or Giovanni, we never run from any type of afterparty, open mic to emcee, best believe, we bring it to you lively, vividly, 3rd eye CCD, high efficiency, colors on IMAX 3D, all up on your computer laptop screen, these dudes is just too mean, we drop into the scene, key you out like some chroma green, cut the full clip in editing, hang with models a trip too be seen in magazines, I'm such a Los Angeline, cos the paparazzi follow me, when they see me, walkin out the limousine, like it was prom night, and I'm dating the home-coming queen, and she's about satisfy me, because when we get home, I'll probably be cummin on this queen, like oops pardon me, this Hollywood True Story, feels like it's so fucking empty, because my life be... runnin on E! ...and I'll be lying if I said say I wasn't metro-styling like Ryan Sea... crest. my B...K reps fresh, like we showed up dressed to impress, but we just pull out whatever from out the closet, dip out to the set, best in the west, self-subscribed superiority... I'm so complex, so fuck the rest, I'm not heartless, it just no longer fits in my chest, best believe, I wear it on my sleeve, pumpin loudly, to the be-be-be-beeeeeat, the metronome beeps, like an EKG, I'm on some slick sly shit, like the KBG, playin War Games, like theaters back in 1983, that's right motherfuckers IMDB, because I-M Nerdy, you get the picture, I-M that G, image, braggadocios P-I-M-P. |
|
|
damn fam...ill do my best to follow that shit...but im pretty sure you killed it...lemme breath on this.... |
 |
ahhh what the hell....
potent with the writtens, kinda hard to be forgiven, two thousand and ten, is the number of lyrical killins i've been involved in, never take life for granted cus it can be taken, you can be alive but are you really livin? i lose myself on a beat, i find myself on a track, i know what's comin in advance and still have to rewind it back, like shiiiit did i just say that? yes as a matter of fact, only time you see me on the bottom is when you look at the map, down south where i lay my head at, the boot to be exact, yeah katrina attacked, and guess what i still came back... stronger than ever, thank you hurricane weather, surviving the storm only made me 10x better... i wear a size 14 boot to loosen the ass of a loser, or a poser, i'm a composer who quickly loses composure, lookin at a landscape full of ho'ers of the male gen-dor, the only way you could be hot is if i stabbed you with a skewer, and roasted you over a fire, coombiyah won't save ya you you are not a suvivor... so give up all hope, like hanging by a rope, that got ya by the throat, i'd find that hard to cope, like a drug addict who's tryin to kick dope... only dope i kick is lyri-cal, 40 cal style violent as all hell, but still a southern gentleman that can swoon ya gal, just ask them southern belles... their a lot of layers to me, i'll allow you to peel back one, but my eyes are always open so don't think you're getting over on vivian's son, she raised an individual who's so cool he could freeze the sun... i'm a human contradiction cus i also set fires for fame, spit at the moon and watch it burst into flames, you look at me with disdain, but you know not to diss mayne, i just turned your night into day you ain't touchin me with anythang... so kiss the ground you're walking on and thank me for thinkin bout my loved ones and family, cus i was 1 second away from blowing this whole world up just to take you with me. |
|
|
(y) |
|
And there he goes again, Lamentations over man's sin, akin to the way Jermiah scribed about the Babylonians. You'd think the man was born again, droppin' Proverbs like King Solomon - the kisses of an enemy, deceitful, faithful are the wounds of a friend; which proceeds to song 27: verse 10, delve deep, it's as true today, as it was back then. Pain is life, but if you hold the tree, you'll eat right, when the fruit is ripe, we gain through strife, maintain your might, drop your burden and sing a song of praise tonight, give thanks for the fight. Iron sharpens iron, that's why we keep our circle tight. Brothers from another mother blowin' purple, fellowship, what a pleasant sight. I laugh at the Devil, when I look him in the eye, 'cause his is a sad, sorry plight - defeated before it ignites; deceit hides from the light. So grind on, you got a bishop on your left and a rook on your right. |
|
|
ANT ᵀᴴᴱ ЯANT |
|
American Psycho I close my eyes and drop to one knee. I kneel before Thee, humbly and pray for you to rescue me. Touch me with your blade and tell me to rise, a new man with a new creed, a new tongue to sever the ties to all these worldly mumblings. Let your blacksmith's forge be a test to me; let me stand steadfast and keep me from crumbling. Never let my defenses be breached. To you I beseech - your divine blindness; let me walk in faith to keep me from stumbling. Let your perfect vision be all that I see; emblazon your crest across my seeing. Let me be the testimony that I was destined to be. Every moment, grant me the action to match my speech, pureness of heart, strength in every sinew of being. Like the fianna who came before us, grant my clan the eloquence, and ferocity of an angelic chorus. Bless the bardic song that we sing, bless the arms that we bring. Let our war cry be as cymbals and war drums. Bless the Legion that would seek to destroy us. And, as we adore you, let the World abhor us. |
Bodhrán
Amaze me with your voice. Love me with your verbs.
Explain to me, how I make your world blur.
Kaleidoscopic flashes, as I worship your purr.
How I make your insides warm, and colors merge.
Amaze you with the way I caress you, and make the pleasure surge.
You salivate, as you wrap warm wood and smile wit' the knowledge that it's all good.
It's no small feat for me to worship all of you; but I embrace it and savor you, like a holy jewel.
I understand your desire, I'm a part of you.
We grind in tandem, when I hesitate you move...
I ride with you, and it's an animal groove.
My fingers caress your lips, as I split you in two.
I won't stop, until you have an orgasm or two.
Explain to me your pleasure, and tell me truth.
Amaze me with your song, there's no words, but it's proof.
That life is delicious, it's like Heaven in you.
ANT ᵀᴴᴱ ЯANT
Sitting face to face in this open space, not a moment to waste, we hesitate as our hearts race at this really unnatural pace,
Time is just a phase, Your lips take an age to part ways and make a plea for the perfect case, on why this could be a mistake,
But a weighted mind and a heavy soul escape in this place, my eyes retrace your outlined silhouette from the back lit fireplace,
Celestial body with such a pretty angel face, covered up in nothing but a little lace, and a smirk that makes, my body ache,
Lust just to have a taste, I can no longer wait, I grab her waist, as she leans back and lays, on the satin sheets, and pillow case,
Her body is a gift, that I am here to take, I run my fingertips from her lips, down her chin, around her neck, caress her chest,
Then I segue to slide off a strap from her negligee, and the other gives way, to expose her breasts, with nipples erect,
I kiss them gently and sensually, licking, and her navel ring is next, between my teeth, I tug at it, and kiss the rest,
Her panties soaking wet, I pull the fabric down, and slide them along her legs, she releases a deep anticipatory breath,
Because she knows what comes next...
ΆяčнзŦұpє
Massage, Masseuse,
You're to tight, get loose.
Baby Breathe deep,
Come on... relax a lil bit...
Just let your body fall limp,
An stop biting your lip.
Here we are, lay down on the couch
In the candle light, exploring by mouth
Leaving glistening salvia trails across soft skin
Lip locked, prepared for twirls & spins
Slippery & sliding, tongues will flick.
Across swollen tips, to lick two nips.
From soft to hard with three moist, kiss.
With most clothes still on, but steady grinding hips
We dilly & dally, searching our valleys
Every crevasse & protrusion
How sweet her taste, inducing dream like states,
Reveries of erotic illusions
Now shedding our clothes, I tear through her hose,
An with one quick jerk, Send the buttons soaring from my shirt,
Into the air & before they can hit the floor,
We are bare chest to breast, Flesh on flesh,
Both, craving & begging for more
Sticking together from our thick sweat
Trickling, & dripping, how wet will we get?
Entwined, entangled, & enthralled
The perfect fit, as my lust, throbs & calls.
Raging rampant, devouring desires.
Setting us ablaze, we are both on fire...
So now, our foreplay has turned to full play
For it is my day, to master you, my lady
So tell me baby girl, how do ya like it?
I think you'd love it kinda rough,
You're jus trying to hide it.
Well if I come on to hard then jus plead mercy,
Or you'll be holding your tummy saying damn boy you hurt me."
No matter what though, I know you'll be pleased
By these magickal hands that know how to tease
And this strong physique to move you at will
Or make you tremble with pleasure from the way I feel
You know, I also possess many oral secrets
I could whisper this in your ear, an watch you squirm & weaken
For I am the muse of the lover from the mystic's tales
Your seduction is complete, for I've yet to fail.
(I wrote this a while back, but this blogged begged for it. I have it blogged with a video reciting it)
-Each1 Teach1
we enjoy the way our tongues tango,a new found appreciation for my understanding of angles, we tangle, extremities, seems chaotic at first, but settle into a rhythm that cause her insides to burst, the thirst is now monstrous, fall back onto my mantras, in and out of the conscious, seperate single plane, sex now is in our brains, ideas tempted dramatically, caressing the inner paths, the pleasure found in wading with neurons in love baths.
we feel a surge coming, engulfing the plane fast,allover sensation takeover the brain mass, eruption upon arrival, sub conscious arrives last,fall back into the bodies, reattach physical straps...we wonder of into the shower so i can put it in her ass.....
(Audio:whyd ya have to go and put it in my ass? Teach: cause thats romance babeh...)
These cats are wack, just jump off my nutsack,
suckas like that suffer from character cataracts,
Sycophantic guys, with those melodramatic lies, hate'n on his fellow guys,
creaming their pants for sum sleep deprived, pretty miss, who gifts romantic eyes,
whoa man, this bitch tries... way too fucking hard, and he'll say anything to be a star,
creep into your convo with no regard, like a retard, talkin like BKPS ain't avant garde,
so I had to pull on his card, leave his ego scarred, publicly feather and tared, up in Fubar,
for actin out of place, hate'n on a brotha that has eclectic taste. he gets the gas face...
Save all that pretense, cos we don't need it,
My BK gents, will never be defeated,
Live-wires, hell-bent and heated,
I'm the type that vents when I get weeded,
We hurt your feelins, we're so fuckin conceited,
We ain't your friends, so then you gets fuckin deleted,
Talk shit, get sent, to the hosp to get treated,
Catch a dent to your snot box, if ya don't remain seated,
Word to my friends, and the rest can get the penis.
I'm sugar-free pimpin, you hoes are diabetes.
Post this as a bulletin, so you bitches see this.
*the following was inspired from this single image I made for my profile to look like a bad shutter effect of an 8mm projector.
S-A-double-V - Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
Certified Sicktastic - cock the shotty, Ant... yeah, click-clack it. Nightmare on a Silent Hill, all the Residents beyond drastic; Pure Evil, hellish buggin', watch out it's the sequel. Sharpen your meat cleaver - divide the fog, and leave limbs unequal...
Ant the Rant of Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
I put it on 8mm, but I'm hold'n 9. Late feature, documents the history of an old crime, the mystery to unfold, told in rhyme, calm, collected, cold and refined, smiling safely, as CSI retrace the, body with a bold line, the killer sits right here and waits, online, hold'n up his call sign.
S-A-double-V - Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
Berserker rage, it's time - shot released, open-says-a-heem, through the spine. Shells expended, cackle on the pine. Floors, as he Rants through the House of a Thousand. Mr. No-Regard-for-the-Corpse. The Road forks, like a cat with Nine lives, leavin' alleys where there use to be doors; blowin' 'em open, and beggin' for more. Shells exhausted, he reaches for the nine, flashes a Death's Head grin, as the canines shine, hollow-tips flash, night strobes to daylight, and dust turns to ash. He licks the blood from his conscience, not what you'd expect - as he cleaves a wake of Evil Dead, and Devil's Rejects...
-Each1 Teach1- said:
remaking classics, the shells have eyes, click to clackin bastids, my 9's gotta mind...of its own, and a desire to leave domes blown, syllable savagery, with a finish of chrome, man the verbal catapult from ontopa my throne, cause offa the dome, im disectin any stranger in my home. the last laugh from no mans land to flagstaff..a lethal injection through gun metal intervention. i brought the kbar to leave flesh scared indentions....
S-A-double-V - Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
Stop to reload; shotty welcomes annihilation. He inhales cain through the nasal, with a grimace - it's pupil dilation,
an increase in sensory detection'n heart palpitation; he pops nictric oxide, powered-up enter Mr. Hyde, his formula for altered station. Detectin' vibration, increase his godspeed, he's ready for Revelation - bringin' Armageddon to an ungodly situation. Six degrees, as trigger-reflex dissects, based on affiliation. Pistols extended, hang in crucifix-formation. Commence to bodily separation - heads decapped, fall in three-hundred-and-sixty-degree rotation; wet thuds signal success, and blood saturates the pavements... walls, halls, and arrangements. Dumpin' without hesitation, the Nines smoke in celebration, Mr. Meat Cleaver danglin', clanging in expectation... blood lust enacted - primal activation; hunger screams, and he laughs, feeling his aura's elevation... as it crackles through his brain - any other woulda' been slain, but he's on it like Max Payne... severing spinal cords, The Butcher brings the rain - surgical accuracy wit' the thang. Jack-off pump-dump and shotty embodies its creation, reason for incarnation. It's 8mm flicker, and the celestial soldier hurdles like an abarition, one-man army-avatar-300-at-Tripoli, insane like a banshee... the Lamb of Salvation.
Ant the Rant of Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
He leaves no forensics evidence at all, just ANT the TYRANT stained across the residence wall. Their bodies lie butchered in a decadent hall, personified devil, rebel without relevant cause, a demon screamin night terrors whenever his conscious calls.
"A killer conflicted, afflicted, with a sickness, and it's too late to fix this, let them all bare witness!!!"
Corpses lay positioned boastfully blasphemous, desecrated with the sins of sadistic malice, a man ruined, woefully callous, punisher in the palace, you can't salvage this savage, he pleasures in your pain, and revels in your strain, you can't level with the insane, this is the devil's domain, Some have tried though, in vain, too primal to quote bible, pain revival, killing a rival, like Cain did Abel, unstable vitals, as your eyes close, your life goes, but death remains, to the deceased comes bittersweet relief, finally released from his reign.
♂ΆяčнзŦұpє™ of of Brass Knuckle Poets Society
5 million wayz to slay fuckas under, runnin more gunz than dow jones does numbers. claim they packing heat? well son we stack thunder, spitin more rays, than the sun in the summer. Arrays that scorch flesh an lay masses asunder. Perplexed minds falter, fumble, to watch'em stumble.
makin'em studder,& mutter... it's all mumble.
Leavin'em dazed & confused... stunned & str8 humbled.
Dont want grief, stay ya ass out the jungle
Cuz when it s on it s on, Locked..cocked, ready to rumble.
Ant the Rant of Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
person perplexed,
pictures painted plainly,
portray pain, perfected,
posed in poised perspective.
a wrecked retrospective,
rendition of wisdom arisen,
warn of wicked ways,
the woes of the wrenched,
hectic, having heard the hearsay,
without the ears to hear her say,
she's here to stay.
talking tenderly, tears to trade,
tomorrows touch, theirs to take,
meant for memories made,
making the many masquerade,
mindlessly motivated,
but motives makes for a miserable mates.
I'm about, abstractions,
and abstaining, absolutely,
from any absurdities,
I'm absolved in my ambition,
abolished, myself from any abomination,
absorbed, from the absence, of abilities,
I'm Ant, but Rant to my confidants,
Spanish transplant, walkin with a slight slant,
I can't, go without at least 4 or 5 chants,
from my debutants, who like to vibe scant,
and grant, a showing off the implants,
and going off in their underpants,
like I was Rembrandt, ...haha buggin
♂ΆяčнзŦұpє™ of of Brass Knuckle Poets Society
Since birth
built to bruise an seer earth
to Amuse, yet show worth
Confuse!, & flaunt girth
Mentally, make ya sick of me
ill lines with no remedy
simplistically...
sowing sick seeds verbosely
while Ant spits abstract absurdities
with rhetorical Rants of hypnotic hyperbole.
Time for S A to display linguistic surgery
Or Each one 2 teach one, codes of rhythmic thuggery
-Each1 Teach1- said:
pass the instruments,
DR. OW preparing for surgery,
despite the detriments you have or have not heard of me,
got flows absurdly,
gangster to rockin nerdly,
steady on the search for a species to constant serve me,
walkin a lonely road i,
stumbled upon some bros,
kickem a couple flows and,
hey whatta ya know!?
Rant the rockhard roadblock, my roaddog,
Savv'll stab ya at each syllable, defenses left at minimal,
then to swing the spotlight, stageright, focus on archetype, leaving lessons and impressions on holding a mic right.....
♂ΆяčнзŦұpє™ of of Brass Knuckle Poets Society
Grippin the mic like Knights clutch a sword
Ready to maraud & maul through an entire horde
Reeking havoc an malice, unorthodox stylist
Drunken monk form... on spirits of dead shaolin
No reason to my rhyme, sometimes, I m just wile'in
Free flowing out the dirty south, from charlotte to long island
East coast reppin with razor sharp talons...
Brutal packs of wolves by the full moon howlin
S-A-double-V - Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
My soul howls in elation; Predator, my natural inclination - yeah, I've been one since creation... a ronin rollin' with Mars' blessing and adoration. Embracin' my savvage nature, as my general mind assesses, and reassesses every situation - three-hundred-and-sixty degrees, the Sixth Sense gauges confrontation. THC in my exhalations as I scan the pavement, in heavy meditation... reciting Les Chants du Maldoror... released from Society's constraints, a snow-beast abomination. Fangs on my canines, armored up and ready... don't test me - I'll bite off ya' fuckin' face'n grin in celebration... care-take the basement - supply meals to the Morgue's specifications. It's blood-lust enacted, primal urge surgin' without reservations; reflexes trained for instant application - The epitome of Alpha Male, The Rites of the Hunter, my designation. Immune to domestication, by playstations, poor nutrition, or heavy medication. I'm a force of nature, from the Sun's apex to it's nadir; a warrior who refuses to be taken. Descended from chieftains, I'll go to war naked and shit on your phalanx, like a bastion of assassination...
Ant the Rant of Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
I'm a cross between a sharp shooter,
and a smart computer, spray art tutor,
Los Angeles vandalist looter,
smoke so much, they label me a gross polluter...
west coast commuter, petrol for the turbo "Suber",
curse words at your stupid motor scooter... (LOL)
Combust, able to turn tables.
come just, to bust, and return later,
I unplug your mic cable,
make roofs unstable, truth not fable,
appetite to recite nice on the mic device,
insatiable...
and in case you don't know,
you got a ways to go,
I got days of flow,
wit S A and Drow,
off flamenco guitar solo,
instrumental, we desperados,
walking in frame, slo-mo,
as the background explodes,
we blaze all those, who oppose,
sensational, you need a rebate for those debatable flows,
governmental pro, cash-for...real hiphop shows,
kids today, just don't know...
deejays run us back some flava flay'vers,
take you back to the days, of real rhyme sayers,
these days, the radio plays, a total waste of words,
people's taste is absurd,
dig through the crates of this nerd, and observe,
I serve people vinyl plates of h'orderves,
line up the needle, cross the fader,
bumpin' in your buildin like some noisy neighbors,
on some scandalous behavior, sexual in nature,
I handle biz, like a Los Angeles Laker,
and kiss mah muthafuckin championship rang fanger...
♂ΆяčнзŦұpє™ of of Brass Knuckle Poets Society
Str8 out the wild, I'm so raw and primal
Alpha came to claim his territory and title
Savv shit on your phalanx, I ll piss on your vitals
Primordial instincts, the beast's homicidal
For the prey best pray to see another day
Trying to Hide, silent, in dried weeds an hay
Yet 5 senses seek an the 6th one finds dem
Ant sharp shootin puttin slugs through ya eyes son
Quick to test mettle... we like katana's metal
Bend but wont break, heads severed, ya leveled
Bodies fall crippled, gory, it's hellish
Blood spurtin juggler veins, I ve embellished
Just rate me a V cuz I get alil violent
So fuggen mean this king was deemed a tyrant
I make Vlad look sissy, Draco holds no crown here
I reign my era of terror from a throne of fear.
Blah.. Buggin
Each1 Teach1 BrassKnucklePoet said:
you can stay primpin, ima stay pimpin these written shurikens into a verbal whirlwind encouraging competition to flourish until the world ends...
oh these silly sapiens, im sprinklin color across the page like painting with sick gradients, minglin with fellow aliens, walkin across seas on breezes or stiff tail winds..im ridin until the rail ends..orgasm. then cold grabbem and makem go tell they male friends..todays the day the sale ends, raincheckin and wreckin all comers with all ailments.terminally ill but still spitten prevention medicine..step up and catch rebuttal from these distinguished gentlemen...
ArcheType (Marq) said:
Hear dat pimpin...Hurlin shurikens?
iight, Im like street fightin Ryu screamin ArrrhhYuhket
Or Killer instinct inflicting combos out my tool kit
Harken back to yester years of dat ill shit
When reminisce over of you was the illest
Or Paris was spittin that militant tip for the realist
Lie: 'when ya buy a rap record.. do ya buy it for dance moves? or do ya buy tracks cuz the lyrics are smooth.?
Cuz if ya wanna dance you should stick with the other ones, an leave this dawg alone until the dancin is done...'
S-A-double-V - Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
...until the world ends and the dancin' is done, I'll be makin' bars bend - yeah, I'm fast wit' it, Son. The disease I got flash like a gun - Picasso wit' my tongue... I could paint a stanza, autograph, and fax it to ya'. My lyrical lasso is long - accurate like my eyes affixed to a fat-ass, in a thong. Pass me the baton and I got choice but to run... blink once, and I'm already gone... curlin' syllables around nouns and verbs, makin' 'em menage et trois... high-def wit' the blazey-blah. You can hear, taste smell and touch... my thoughts - hazy? Nah... like ecstacy on cocaine - but way more raw. Until the world ends, I'll be in a circle, curlin' grape around purple, tradin' verbals - exhalin' combustables out my jaws...
Ant the Rant of Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
Breathe out a heatwave, the prodigy seeks play, since the streets days, of roamin like a Roman, in Bellvitge, I'm a long ways from my home, different continent- I'm grown, off on my own, but with confidence shown, I never copy or clone, sloppy or thrown, when I rock these microphones, step off, leave it alone, or like my cock you'll get blown, right before I'm gone, Nena de pelo marrón, como Eva Perón, I'll leave a spot on the top of your tail bone, and sail on before dawn.
ArcheType (Marq) said:
Riigh Riigh, We be flying friendly skies, Rhymes & lyric's the high,
Where soliloquies massage similes so deeply that metaphors get envious
Spittin syllables for these silly bulls.. shit choke artist,
wrap they tongue around they mind, got both of'em str8 twisted..
Like ZOOOM .. over they head cuz they missed it,
Get ya weight up, get ya mind right
You over par in the course called life
Intellect lacks so you call it collect
No honor in ignorance, Whats to respect?
Haha, this a rope-a-dope, an u tha joke
It dont stop with a tko, No mercy, nope.
Cuz I brutally beat busta's brainless
A beast bustin bones... but blameless
S-A-double-V - Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
I'm blameless... naked, I stand shameless. Flawless, like a ninety degree angle - she can't name this. We'll call it ice-pick penetration. Priceless; my ism is art - they need to frame this. I steal her breath, and leave other Alpha's nameless... Jon-Doe-Toe-Tag and open casket face lift. Beta's and Gamma's... well shit, they get castrated - shhh... don't be agitated, it'll be painless. I got balls like Rodeos, so bring the pain - I'll entertain it. Capricorn - overcoming obstacles is my nature... my life, pursuant to trials and tribulations. I'm certified, purified... by the fire and the flame; I'm used to bein' hated, so stand in line and keep waitin'. I throw up the Devil's Horns and I'm skatin'…
ANT ᵀᴴᴱ ЯANT of Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
Wit triples sixes, I blitz this, mic, wit the quickness, gifted, but on some sick shit, it's a habit when I rip this, flesh, like some slit wrists, on ya mistress, she put on a good show tho, sorry you missed it, drip-drip, is what it did-did, when this kid, slid, his dick in, the chicken, was kickin', pulled her in, the kitchen, trash compact'in, fliped the switch'n, put her fist in, watch'n her grimacin', grinnin, as I'm listen'n, her insides twistin from the pain it's in... I'm vio'lent, the moans went sio'lent, tried to untie her when, I thought I heard some sio-rens, I think it's time to say bye my friends... lock your doors or else I might come by again.
-Each1 Teach1-BrassKnucklePoet said:
he's triple 6's,
im stickin to double digits..
snake eye'n on the prize
like anacondas on sick midgets..
i smoke until im lifted..
needing handicapped assistance,
with a gold medalist's persistence
im shaping my own existence
into something thats consistent.
with this lil life o'mines,
im spitten'til its quitin time
whend you ever design a line,
to baffle one of mine?
competitions fine ..
but lets lay it on the line..
if you wanna tussle with muscles
you'll get smashed to turnbuckles.
catch knuckle and chuckles
from this cat and his hustles.
cause im rustling wranglers
and dismembering strangers.
come and walk with me
we'll discuss our inner angers...
Ant the Rant of Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
I sit and watch you front reckless, like third-person perspectives.
S-A-double-V - Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
I stunt like X-Games, and X you off my checklist... eat a formidable brain for breakfast. My curricular is extra, so check this... my flow is terrorist, hit you where it's least expected. The stratagem, like a nail-bomb... but way more reckless, exploding in every direction. I wear a wrecking ball, as pendant and necklace. Try to snatch my pride and get embarrassed and disrespected... aggression - fuel for my erection. Demolish the facade and resurrect it, lace up game and teach lessons. How do you stop it, if you can't defend it? I rig examples, like presidential elections. I'm a tattoo surrounded by millions of freckles... a grand master who's never been bested. Your antics lack direction, like a chicken runnin' headless. How can you reap success, if the expense has never been accepted? My crew's amused by you - you'd sell your soul to be respected...
-Each1 Teach1-BrassKnucklePoet said:
Demolish the facade and resurrect it, lace up game and teach lessons. How do you stop it, if you can't defend it? I rig examples, like presidential elections. I'm a tattoo surrounded by millions of freckles... a grand master who's never been bested. Your antics lack direction, like a chicken runnin' headless. How can you reap success, if the expense has never been accepted? My crew's amused by you - you'd sell your soul to be respected...
say what?.
ANT ᵀᴴᴱ ЯANT of Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
what the fuck type of math is this? when fuckers can't tell me, what a fraction is, I'm one-over-one kid, the whole bid,
so dope, you couldn't hope to capture this, without having to cope with a few fractured ribs, and a swollen lower lip,
you lost, like when you're rollin' lit, tryin ta find some chick's apartment, to pay a late night visit, circle'n K and 25th, but forgot to get those digits, like a stupid bitch,
you need a map for this, because without the right access, it just might get hazardous, and get got, for the bidness. storylines from the witness,
from a mind so deep and dark, it's probably got bats in it,
I wear brims to keep a lid on it, there's no telling what the gifted kid's got to give,
bruce lee like emcee, because I'm passionate, about the ass I kick. mastered my flip,
from now on I'ma sign raps that I spit, with an asterisk, legally speaking, it just don't get more badass than this*
♂ΆяčнзŦұpє™ (B.K.P.S.)♂ said:
Badass'ed'ness, astronomical Asterisks
Flinging boulders over ya shoulders,
Heads smashed to the flatness
Brass knucks swell ya up like blunts, we rollem fattest
Better than LL, he's bad, Im baddest
Or Big PUN, he fat, Im phattest
No father to my style, call me a 'bastid'
Phenomenally disembowelin the captured
Imma Omen, evoking the raptur'a
The decrees issued will out last ya
Im clear & concise and u a bumbling babbl'a
Wolfin ass, mean mugging, Saber rattler
My voice like opera is to glass, it shatters ya
Come on keep up!, u lack the stamina
Predator tactics to cripple the scaveng'as
Fierce Fangs, long talons to ravage ya
Have ya trippin, seeing visions, dub me'a conjur'a
-Each1 Teach1-BrassKnucklePoet said:
these kids come wicked with delivery...
ladies jock the styles symmetry..
a 12 pack of flatblack
and i define can control wizardry...
a slave to my sickness
but i'll bust this one willingly.
stumble upon my killin spree,
this evening? home delivery.
i rumble in the jungle
to obtain some sense of feelin free.
S-A-double-V - Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
If we had less clones, I'd have less zones; I wouldn't get this high, or hit as many area codes. Less clones equals fewer molds to break, and less bones. And, speakin' of bones, less clones means fewer domes to wreck, and even less homes...
-Each1 Teach1- of Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
brassknucks to the dome, wreck homes like cyclones, fresh coast to midwest, stay fresh my biddness, leave'm floppin on the shore like fish'ez wif no breathes, the freshest no contest, big buds, no compress'd, come catch a caved chest when steppin to these gents..get left on impressed, yer souls we digest, dem bones and dem flows, no contest, so whos next?
ANT the RANT of Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
Less is more, unless it's to dress for war, then we just have a mess in store, when red flesh carpet the floor, shirts off fellas let's impress the whores! pushups til my pecks are sore, I'd rather flex a test score, where's all those sexy girls, that cosplay princess Ley, and just wreck my world?
hahaha oh you know what I'm talkin bout...
S-A-double-V - Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
I'm more or less immune to stress; I flex religiously to rebuke duress, bounty hunt the flesh like Boba Fet; if you stay ready, you crush a vegetable like water cress, eat a clucker like a chicken breast... it's brass knuckle surgery on a nut's chest. I'll go to war nekked, knucks on my fists, and diamonds in my breath.
ANT the RANT of Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
With a 4 finger ring, that sing, a sweet lullaby when we swing, whoop BING! Feel the hot sting, and have a good night dream... BKPS runs this thing, like we was track training. We leave the wack waiting. I'm here fact trading, like it was a NASDAQ rating, debating on whether to drop some chedder or push to savings.
S-A-double-V - Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
These clones are Aesops, they all fables. We Clydesdales, bashed through the stables... it's non-fiction, there's no debating, bastardize the debate team and beat my chest, verbally berating... the more illegal, the more it's my thang; the fisticuff trading, on some World War II front line wet-thud-thump-ding-bang.
ANT the RANT of Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
1942, fighting to find the truth, foxed holed allied with living proof. snipers on the roof shooting untrue. Not being real is something I just can't do, cover me, I'm coming through, flank the left side with real-talk point-of-view. See them in my scopes, let this trigger do what it gotta do, spew a chorus at you, BK forces, reinforce this dude, hoping to have a break through, to these fake fu's, but looks like we'll have to make do. and pursue perfection on my own two.
S-A-double-V - Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
I don't need to fight to find... my strength, bolster my style or my mind. "Still I Rise," and maintain my grind. You can't mimic the phoenix, or doppelgang the pain in my eyes. It's like fourteen nine - conquistador, leave two in the spine; puppet-master these crash test dummies and sever their ties. Ventriloquism spins clockwise from the four-five, and the Red Hand slaps you, 'cause you deserved to be chastised. The might is mine, on some magic tricks like it's D&D time; I'm talkin' bout dick the dimes. They recognize, when they see the sickest sign - Capricorn, leapin' obstacles two at a time. They feel me like braile, but they blind to the sight... of a Mark wit' a bulls-eye in between his eyes. Excuse me, I had to get that off my chest, 'cause real recognize real, and imposters need to die.
ANT the RANT of Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
blessed, when the mind overcomes the flesh, discipline at it's best, but lets confess, I'm still human, underneath the surface, every now and then I get a lil nervous, so I test my limets, strap in and work thes, fresh, snow capped mountain in Mammoth, til the sunset or my legs got nothing left. Accept nothing but the best, in this wild wild west.
S-A-double-V - Brass Knuckle Poets Society said:
I'm addicted to some wild wild sex; I get my respect: kama sutra and kegels, kinetic energies mesh... sixty-nine different ways to connect. It's a mammoth task to some, but to me it's the carbon dioxide in every single breath - I exhale sex, desires of the flesh. I fucked her with my eyes, she winked, like "wha's next?" It's your world, Mamas - I'm just the best. We could blow some snow, take a couple to the neck... air out the 'dro, or pop a li'l ex... but I'm warning you, I'm relentless, an aphrodisiac, and hold I'll you while we rest. Come'ere Mamas - kiss me while you pet my chest, let me get you wet; let me take away your stress, let the snow beast flex.
