stream of consciousness: ... , ! ? ; ' *

my punctuation, marc'll punch your face in, pause /
pussies pacing, plus y'all paranoid because /
y'all push too far, played me hard so i launch attacks /
20 paces til i blaze these niggas on the tracks /
in many places, many faces fall, silent as my knights /
storm your castle, your rights are just, not worth my hassle /
i blast you, wage wars on ya cattle, herds topple like statues /
fight's over fast, long before the start of battle /
you expire like statutes, know your limitations, y'all /
imitation niggas claim the struggle of a black youth /
you lack truth, so imma attack you, i'm such the shit that /
when my niggas shot at, we say that life's a crap shoot <>

time waits for no man, tonnes on my fuckin mind /
pluck a trigger like a string, got a nigga duckin rhymes /
caref'ly wrapped this one joint in precious time, it's serious /
an mc's rap is on point, y'all niggas on your periods /
d-dot-dot, i buss shots, so you come to rest... /
lethal ellipsis on your chest, leaving you short of breath /
your shorties left, vegetative like a comatose patient /
life sentence: put on on hold by correct comma placement <>

*breathe*

we bring it loud like a beretta so you better run /
veterans with better guns, on and on, et cetera /
number one like Federer, why you start a racket? /
older gods at a hat'll, drop you hard from the bracket /
you lack it, the smooth operation of a criminal /
dash your hype when, hyphens crash your crew, into syllables /
you silly fools, your chords are no use, like umbilicals /
the ones that form a noose around the neckline of your physical /
my lyrics will, pierce your internals as you hold on /
for dear life: bleeding shit 'cause the semi buss your colon /
so cold on, autopsy metal tables where your bodies be /
i flow on, i own this, this's my apostrophe <>

stream of consciousness: cognitive bias

i like to tinker with the tools for your thinking,
food for thought i just chew it up,
no room for fools,

i pick and choose the rules,

and high jinks
lower blows leave a stink
like rows of roses, over those past the brink:
those for whom the pulse of doom got no kink
on stage you flat-line at my nines,
see your life flash like light,
i fight crews, i don't blink,
so glazed are my eyes all the time.
dehydrated,
i'm thirstier than drunkards
drooling back in their drink
but still fire,
bullet-grazed yet on point with the rhyme,
unfazed and amazing,

blaze a joint on this line,
put bluntly:
you couldn't find an axe that could stump me,
you dull B,
my cypher's sick, i'll smoke you like bud trees,
i'm hungry,
your tries to diss are stuck in your guts see,
like shit,
my rhymes will kick you right where them nuts be,
you're rusty,
your ammunition's awfully pointless,
pull a pistol:
bullet blitzkrieg that i hollowed the points in,
standard issue,
empty clips do get switched,
i anoint with,
an ointment of hits
that explode like the shits
and damage tissues.
couldn't fathom how i'll atom split you,
mushroom clouds to move the crowds: 

mind-matter fission.

and wise adage missiles,

the aftermath's official:

after laughter comes the tears,

look: here's a tissue.

stream of consciousness: who's gonna save my soul now?

wrote this on the beat of gnarls barkely's "who's gonna save my soul now?" which had previously escaped my ears. a wicked take from a male dumper's perspective. what you say gnarls? remix with ghostface killah?

~~~

we used to be the sun in the sky,
stars shining,
hearts bright and, enlightened,
but harsh nights encroached on,
to spite our warm summers day,
delight just alighted away,
faint approach of the cold upon love,
some will say,
creeps quiet beneath us,
the flesh rendered weakened,
what spirits unwilling won't speak of,
mired in our own latent struggles:
our feet,
tied up in our frustrated hustles:
our hands,
tired instruments,
unplayed by dead minstrels as we,
cry out in a drawn sluggish speech:
i love you...
baby i love you
bitch fuck you,
i love you, but fuck you.
you're selfish i'm selfish, it's ending,
what do we spend all this night's oil to see?
in the valley of our shadow,
some trees?
nothing grows above a barren soil,
these leaves underneath?
but the throes of a love devoid,
of life,
brightest day burned in vain,
to the darkest void of night,
blackest hole swallow fabric,
the space we both needed,
invaded then bleeded,
the contempt we breed, it was fated,
fam- il-i-ar-i-ty
changed things,
from charity to favors,
the vanity enslaved us,
renditions of our love were now labored,
and labelled, conditioned,
serenades became sermons on behavior,
false fables, fuck this shit...

stream of consciousness: hunter killers

the mad nomad hopping stops bussin raps at earlobes, dropping bombs worldwide geo-tagging your globes, critic'lly thinking, kill em all, religious faggots in robes, priestly pillars pilloried for penny bagging the dope, rise the dealers, made a menace 'cause our tricks are all sleeveless, made a mess of crossing chests, saw it's not only the meekest, only the strong survive crap shoots the longest, guns rise, so fuck jesus, deuces wild so screwed am i while i play games with sharks eating, narcs cheating, packing shards-of-glass in crack-coated cards, see who dealt us, bluffed calls, out of options, zero deltas, money left us no shelter, discontent of cold winter sure teach us, many necessary evils of life -like strapping heaters disguised, and how to see through the lies what, beneath us are the tracks of deceit of, the acts of great speakers, at whom my gun-sights reveal weakness, "self-evident that all men are equals", i'll sneak up, apparatus shatter like beakers, i speak the TRUTH, that no man is born bullet-proof.

stream of consciousness: bang bang 2.0 / nines over aces

/...bang bang, she shot me down, bang bang, i hit the ground, bang bang, that awful sound, bang bang, my baby shot me down... /

here's another story from the house that rhymes built, a song about my guilt, the blows that i've dealt, the writing's on the wall, i put the letters in the bricks and mortar, nothing better than these licks i offer, i'll toss ya with the timing of a high kick, and strike it so you fall, wet like water... hell or high, author i, meant this to torture, your silence says it all, dumbstruck, numbed up, til you scream like there's awesome, lightning and thunder in your head, mad frightening like the monster metaphors under your bed, felt my black belt tighten... all around your necks like pelts, noose hooked, goose cooked, what's for dinner, as you enter my thirty sixth chamber, danger, targets strictly aimed for, the best of my dirty tricks, stranger, charmed ya, the quirkiest, flavor, quark spin so ill the sickest truth couldn't save ya, but what don't kill just, might send thrills up, the spine, bussed nines send chills up the spineless, bite dust, the light prince's mic skill's divine, so he might kill righteous, or maybe he might just, divy up the dumb, deaf and blind, here is liar's poker, of the wisecracking joker's design, straightened faces that hide pairs of aces behind, walk a line twenty paces then show off the nines, fully house, bang bang.

stream of consciousness: mad scientist 2.0

let's start this, some darts are too sharp to eject, so i might save mine for later, pass time, create wine, to inebriate, a drunkard's thoughts too hard to dissect, i reflect, waves of light off the mirror of the mind, like mines i'm an improvised, explosive device, dots too far to connect? fuck straight lines, i'm space-time, the fabric bender, language blender, rap defender, stitch one to save nine, then i'll spit game like ender, i rattle fools in battle school, be flowing hanging G's, sling a razor sharp laser armed in zero gravity, pain will make you glad to see, dirt naps and diatribes, coffins dropped and doors are knocked on, death raps, it's genocide, when i rhyme the nines applaud, guns clap for clever lines, like every time, liquid swords chop and sever ties, off of necks strangled by killer hives, and vocal chords surrounded, hope is lost and bodies hit the ground when, i'm become death, destroyer of worlds, i'm toying with words, ploys in reverse: molehills out of mountains, i kid perhaps but i'm not clowning, though i smiled for that one, if i'm wild i'll crack one, put a nine to your back son, i'll blast you with a piece of mine, such a real delight, just to give you peace of mind, a master of disaster, rhyme blaster sparked, genius bright, i seen darkness unseen like night, travel faster then the speed of light, i'm bert einstein's hip hop heir, dropping bombs like it's E = MC squared, leave no emcee spared...

stream of consciousness: bang bang / the anarchists / song for nancy

[[ lyrics written to rza's (nancy sinatra) bang bang remix, vocals intended for Masta Killa ]]

~~~

i been silent for a while observing, pub- servants, -lic servings, off my plate, dictates from, suburban high society, the projects should be rioting, their planning, the Man's in, vis'ble hands quietly, out to rob us urbans, so mindfully, i keep, the flames alight fanning, rigged games much like manning paid tonnes of bribes, hands in, crazy money maddened insaner ones, rhymes dropped liked dimes, hits ordered, sight lines, clips dusted, never rusted nickel plates, or chrome or silver polished, young homes often offed in close quarters, backs kicked, facts flipped, bucks are passed, much amassed, fuck the past, time's spent quietly as a convict's, i'm quite convinced that all their halls of justice, just involve con kings, drama queens, aced up sleeves, and some overblown courts of jesters, marcus guilty? yes, please, this and then some, monochrome thought suggesters, get hanged, bang bang, deadly melodies, as such the master's enemy, i add a touch of class from the A-2-1 felonies, the crime-iest, the shiniest designs like the Midas's, Osiris built the pyramids then lined 'em all with mines, the maddest machiavellian, might just pack a toolie then, introduce the violence in the rhyme without a reason, see weakness through the iris of the mind, unrefined, you will find that which is spit from the speakers unsweetened, awful sounds like slaughter all but drowned and coughed up like water, thick like hawked up phlegm, but thinner than my blood, thirsty hounds you'll be the feed to, pounds are lethal, bleed you, holier than thou the dirty metal rounds'll leave you, all spun around and mad see through, rotten bodies coff'ed up in the ground, bang bang, something loud nothing fancy, no frills, sample nancy, Rza's killers up the ante, christ.I.AM, shut 'em down with the skills...
~~~

stream of consciousness: somebody help me! i'm warring and i can't get stopped!

what will you sucker mc's do when i've used up this rhyme shit, outta time, you better sharpen your teeth to start biting, my lines while i'm just baiting y'all niggaz, fit for a fight and, you start a TRADE in MARC's lyrics, fuck it i'll COP You a RIGHT hand, you see this Marc? he's just, PRO, with the lyrics? prolific, terrific prose with it, prose-wiki-wick-iz-icked. prose whiz kid, PRONE, to rip shit, DOWN, you clowns get, blown, leave your whole kit PRONE... now you all aLONE and you busted, so rewind this rhyme, which i bussed kid, just to under stand what i just did, over ya head, this is lyrical justice, snap, ooooooh! now look how you OWNED!

stream of consciousness: pick a number between her legs and her thighs

i saw her just that one time, we connected for a second, when she beckoned, I, reckoned it was ON, like a DIME, that was turned into a 10, of new pennies for her thoughts which though she said she had plenty they could never be bought, i took this harsh but stood on guard such that i wouldn't be caught, i laughed it off cuz after all i'd score the clever retort: said, "every princess has a price, and every prince has a vice, and everything nice can be purchased, like sugar or spice." a wavered smile prefaced her chuckle, buckled knees held her thighs, i knew that time was of the essence, count my blessings, high five but fore-most on her mind: a number i could get in three tries, so she would be mine, and i's inclined to guess 69, and though i meant that figur-atively, she put her figure eight on me, and seven minutes later i saw heaven in her face and heavy breathing mist the place up, picture perfect, pierced her lace-up, missus squirming, words to say: none, sun was rising on her day's, horizon panorama's gaze, from fertile soils to crescent bays, no trouble toiled at all just play, -ful bubbles boiling from the sways, i'm rubbing oil in her olays, the lust was just carried away, the lust was just carried away, the lust just was carried away...

stream of consciousness: the bad seed / 616 / mark of the beats

let him that understands count the numbers in the belly of my beast, at the very least, the number of the Man / written to his beats, heard him speak from the 16th chamber, times-6 centuries, add it, danger / stranger, i'm none to violence nor to silence, an angered emcee strangler, known to rhyme blitz / dangler, of your conversation, cliff hanger ya, complex fable of my god complex / -phone checks, this is micro-, scopic, detail, tho it might go off topic it might sell / retail she sells seashells, but then she sails off-the-charts just to top it, haha marc STOP it! / just because you got darts sharpened, and your young heart's hardened, don't mean you pardoned / bitch i beg your pardon! it's just i got this hard on, to prose-create, so don't emasculate, me else you might be late / and i might be late with my payments. why don't you take this milk for yo shake bitch? / i like to say "bitch", write rhymes for rapists, come get your hate mixed, Oh my gOsh! it's, just that i lost it all when my heart frosted, now i don't flake bitch! i'll up the stakes bitch so you just wait ...

[*waits for beat to reset* ]

... i heard you suckin snakes with em fuckin jakes, hope your duck gets draked, leave you duct in tape, stuck in place, ra-tat-tat... duckin weight / drowned in lakes, wearing concrete blocks by manolo, blahnik feet locks or... some-other shoe-homo / shew! i'm glad i don't home own, all up in your crisis, listening to you cry, shiiit sound just like hormones / or ho moans, weeping and gnashing of teeth, my bitch got rash and disease, yet still i creep it / or sleep with (big up to biggie smalls) what you're not bleeding? bun in the honey oven, not sure if i seeded? / please won't you keep it? i'm quick to ask that cuz i'm quick to blast that, dirty bastard, and put him in the cutest casket...

~~~
[free association, written to the beat of the 16th chamber instrumental... for an ODB vocal]

my take on mavado "so special"

but jaaaaah /
mih too special, i'm so special so special so special /
yuh av dub fi sale but yuh fail, it on special /
mih get gun retail den regale dem wit special //

gyangstaaaah /
fi get some gun metal, get gun metal gun metal gun metal /
nah trust no one, and mih nah rust gun metal /
shot buss fi fun, blood fi run from gun metal //

four staaar /
fi lock down dub session, down dub session dub session dub session /
forward fi come, crowd ah people dub session /
coward fi done, now mih breeze through dub session //

blood claaaat /
fi know dis dread reckon, dis dread reckon dread reckon dread reckon /
bare boom riddim, soon fi him fi get wreck on /
bare tune fi dem, tomb fi dem, jah jah beckon //

mih just daaaaamn /
way too special, too special too special too special //

stream of consciousness

your mind is a virgin's own / mine's a mad surgeon's / the hymen's the eardrum / tear one pop a verse in / the mic's on / i'm cursin' on rhymes / flow is surgin' / the timing, momentum / peers none / that i'm certain // of , fuck your whirlwind! / i sow wind and girlfriends / get blown / bullets burstin' (BLAAOWWW!) / now you soul searchin' / life signs / does it hurt when / felled flat by these word stings / i buss chests through vests / pierce 'n' flat-line steve irwins // too soon? / i'm just irkin' ya / just lurking for new wounds / or working them angles / so i can wrangle a few coons / i meant COINS / my wit is rare / exquisite like blue moons / once inna / word spin-i / wreck shizit like loo- toons // w'sup doc? / you seem mighty goosed / so i'll roast it / pun cocked i got words to let loose / rhymes unholstered / i'm coastin' / salud! / let's just toast this / here hold this / shot of liquor / behold this! / gun salute got you froze- / shiiiit // i'm golden / weight holding / truth be told / i'm emboldened / shots fi lick off / mih jus add two line deya / cah mih tick' off! /

brrrAAh-brrrrAAh! //

versus verses: where my drugs at

my rhymes make MC's choke,
like cyphers in weed smoke /
wrote the words on some papers
that was rolled into these tokes /
i rip a double entendre,
maybe triple innuendo /
fiends trip anticipatin'
while i triple beam this endo /
scale a ton of rhymes
but pack it tight like a dame's cunt /
you take it once or twice,
'll leave you higher than james blunt /

the word on Wall Street

even this rap shit's a grown man business
you'll take your rhymes to a piggy bank if the crowd lose interest
but when my money rise up the feds intervene
with their warrant-less wiretaps and red laser beams
money wanted to fire back but money was wise to that
paintin us as targets for making black markets...
ridiculous charges, trumped like subprime mortgage
in the projects least we got no slum rhyme shortage,
all that garbage you design as your markets decline
your wealth stands corrected so you want piece of mine?
haha. i laugh cuz i'm highly stressed ragin off these IRS agents.
i just want peace of mind.

word is bonds son,
my money's in inequities,
go get chinatown to sponsor your treasuries, nigga.


BROUGHT TO YOU BY WU TANG FINANCIAL

guerilla dub

fyah-bun-a man who claim godname,
say me a burden, ah me him blame,
buil'-up him house right-pon dem same
graveyard him gallop-on without one shame,
build ship sail come-fi make man tame
weight-dice shake, play like dis-a game
ghetto-youth-life flush down them drain,
... dat-ah-why men blood will rain,
or shine, man ah oil up beretta,
quiet guns-dem pack tight inna sweater,
thru' ceasefire i, man a money-getta
but-a piece-fire time, aim bloody better.
gun shot buss, start riot hot steppa,
so many man get left 'pon stretcher
fun time sometimes (we still pussy-wetta) but,
war song, we will sing it forever.
never bother wid all dem lies cuz,
never care if dem ostracise us,
never praise babylon messiah,
'im a build babel on guns for hire,
tyrannical man, big empire,
tyrannosaur big, him expire,
asymmetrical make rich man tire,
'cause likkle youth dem start light fire.
still dem a throw plantation party,
pocket dem profit and floss dem car keys,
pay black water fi kill iraqis, but
jail black brudda fi sell three rock, please.
ghetto-youth see how deep dis farce is,
deeper-than slaves-drowned 'cross-the far seas,
... dat-ah-why man-about anarchy,
dash a fire 'pon sly monarchy.


[this track was written to a loop sample of the beat from M.I.A.'s "20 dollar" from her "Kala" album. it is meant for rapid delivery to contrast the slow beat.]

in the court of the crimson king

a tale is told of mighty men
fighting for their place
plots unfold for pots of gold
dying for the taste

withered souls and armored chests
the streets parade away
quiet times awake unrest
and fools' songs ricochet

a golden calf is born again
the children clap "once more!"
sharing laughs of blunt disdain
blind as those before

stream of consciousness: drug rush

i write with some old hands, the rhymes roam like nomads, wandering like lost tribes my minds wait for no man / i spit freeze like frost's bite, cold words for these forced ripe mc's who blow smoke and then choke like exhaust pipes / i'll toss mics like they be raw, salads on a frisbee, spinnin' broken records, break em ballads til they dizzy / busy with some 80 proof fizzy in my veins, call an izzy get the four-C score phillies lit the brain, / disappear in the purple haze pierce an eardrum with turns of phrase, pistol whip-em twists'll flip em off the vinyl til they dazed / still amazed at my brazenness, going crazed like some ancient shit, blood, sweat and swears, mix the colours, i'm paintin' wit /

rebel music

i saw us at our corners with no holster decked glocks, no one snorting crack rocks, rich from shorting tech stocks... we were smokin' marijuana on a golden deck yacht... but shit, was just a dream about the cream we have not, snap back to reality at sounds of gun shots, take a peek out the window and get a whiff of that endo, if i pray it's for strays to miss my grand mama's lot, else the bells'll start tolling like that grandfather clock us niggaz stole from the landlady's shop, cuz we ran out of time, to earn dimes to pay the rent and the cops... so there's crime to engage in, rhymes spun in rage and, those who didn't make it out, homes locked in cages, shiiit i love life because hate gives it flavour, spice to the taste of scraps paid for our labour, as if bread crumbs was some shit to savour, master enslavers, muthafuck this i'm coming for you...

* * *

"marc, why don't you write about all the happy things in life?"
"because i'm a moral person."
"what in the world does that mean?"
"well, while you basked in the blissful ignorance of your first question all around the world thousands of impoverished little kids were suffering as a result of flawed man-made political economic institutions. and while i can't do much to help them because i'm currently broke, i do the next best thing: i choose not to ignore such issues; in fact i bring it to the center of my attention by telling myself these stories. if i'm mindful about it now, when i make myself rich off of the money of privileged folks who pay to have their wealth managed i'll hopefully remember and take some action, though i'll probably buy a sports car first."
"silly marc, you mustn't think so much. you use too many words in your sentences. oops sorry, that's my iPhone, gotta run. ciao."

stream of consciousness

we got that ill shit so chronic, hooks more than weed in the phonics, buzz like the gin in your tonic, buss rhymes at speeds supersonic /so mad they deemed it demonic, hip hop possession no question, cuz by the end of the session got white folk speaking ebonics /forgive a nigga that's honest but life ain't half that was promised, so we just in for the profit, that green that cream, economics /and there ain't no way to stop it cuz we've got too much momentum, flows in the song of the ghetto kids, that old ones hated to mention /we tell the tales of the hardest shit, mind blowing heart wrenching, and there is no way to varnish it because the truth brings the tension /

stephen marley is a boss

hey baby don’t you worry
even though the road is rocky
i’ll be coming home to you again
cuz if you thought that I was lost
i had to bare my cross
now I’m free from all these chains