View Full Version : The God's Audio Rhyme Book

d fresh
12-07-2008, 11:05 PM
Page 1
My testament is a reference to D Mecca to a less extent
Negligent but still heaven sent to represent
This seven is bent off the joys of life still the boys are trife
Fake dudes we destroy this type
Some are wishing for an open cell cause they had dope to sell
Talking coke on their cell in coded language that was cracked
Donuts was weed Danish was crack
Cause of the anguish they wanna crack at a reverse in time
This thought hurts my mind when I rehearse a line from a verse that find
Your ear clear with sheer honesty hear my modesty wrapped in confidence
That suggest my prominence D Fresh equal dominance
Simply put if you listen to the wisdom I Clay Davis the system
Not guilty even if I got filthy
Slave to the mud cut a MCs neck and bathe in its blood
Cause he plays a thug acting out a part
Cracking out a fart while macking out a dart
Heat packing for this art snacking like a shark
Bread stacking by the cart

Page 2
Iím back for the first time another cursed rhyme that hearst lines
Worst than spine injuries feel the energy I been a G
Not a gangsta just add O.D. no talk just send the fee you see
What Iím inking affect Blacks more than Lincoln
While these MCs are shrinking like a weakling
Iím speaking what you seeking every weekend
Black and proud rarely lack a scowl but I pack a smile
When I mack a fowl for good taste
Chickens bring a grin to a hood face cause I would base
A connect to get some good face
Donít care about race when talking dumping my nut waste
When a broadís mouth and my dick elope and she donít choke
Got me fighting the urge to cum pulling a rope-a-dope
Before Johnson knock out a great white hope
Hopefully down her throat graphic like porn
Not part of societyís norm
Cause I see through facades as I brainstorm
Making knowledge born in written material
Iím that nigga writing imperial while eating some cereal they talk about on Backstage
Next to some Apple Jacks I attack a page the sound of a track with rage
Each sentence packed with blaze to wreck the trashest
On the street where the tech blastes
I affect the masses with the dialect thatís the brashest


d fresh
12-07-2008, 11:06 PM
Page 3
In the age of Berettas I put my rage in letters
To gauge am Iím better on stage or in any weather
Than any fucka that tough a mic
I say fuck the fame sometimes lust the hype
Cuss like sailors make a big fuss alright
In the process I learn the ridge but burned a bridge
To earn a fridge of life support
The right sort of fight of course
Itís a sight of force like if I was Nike endorsed
On the charts Iím adjusting the top
As I walk with those lusting the block
Busting shots from rusting glocks fussing Pac
Is better than Big cause of his impact with words
Pouring out liquor for those clapped by the curb
Stuck in a trap as the burbs become our goal
Mini Ė mansions white picket fence
In the midst of shit thatís thick and dense
By their presence you can tell whoís real or bitch
I feel that itch to get a deal and be rich
Get bread like that deal for that Hitch movie Will Smith had
Get the meat for the spliff by the bag
Itís truly a gift not to be sad
Puffing to get a lift while I gag and cough
With rhyme Iím among the biggest of the bad we lost
When Iím gone my toe tag will say boss

Page 4
Black mask, black gloves I attack thugs
When lyrical crack hugz a track from above
Iím addicted to the rhythm becoming one with the drug
Until its flesh of my flesh blood of my blood
Heat of my hear love of my love until Iím a drug
Away from being a strung out addict the black bunny rabbit
Broke nigga with a rhyming habit with thought of living lavish you see
If the ghetto energy could walk and talk then it would be me
The essence of the gutta translated through poetry
Cigarette butts and cracked bottles of Jack D
Hip hop steams through my pores until I almost O.D.
Making me a shell of myself travel through hell for my wealth
Close to having stale health drinking ale on the stealth
Holding my liquor like a pail or a shelf in the attic
Black Asiatic perfecting my battle tactics through mathematics
Make niggaz who bring static stop breathing like asthmatics

Page 5
Lifeís what you make it in the bowel s of the ghetto
Some live soap others foul with metal real wild fellows
Canít knock the hustle tho thatís all we got
Standing on the block with a Snickers and some pop
Bobbing our heads to the kicker with some knock
Becoming a dime picker with some rocks on your finger or your neck
Hoping some critters donít linger after sex
Buying phone ringers to show respect for the hottest joint we love
Murda mitten hustlers and Detroit thugs
Always on point even off drugs they all my fam blood or no blood
Itís more than love we rep the same city
Going against the grain type gritty niggaz for real
We destined for dollar bills and be violently killed
Canít hold my tongue behold the sun of a cold gun
See how the game is supposed to be sold dun


d fresh
12-07-2008, 11:08 PM
Page 6
I love you but you make me cuss and spit
To the point I wanna bust your shit
But instead of me being on the rush to hit
I think about our good times and lust your hips
The touch of your lips beautiful smile
Rock a natural style met you on the Isle
On the strip power years ago dressed like a hoe
Step to you to get a quick blow but your mental made me move slow
Now I call you wifey born a Pisces like to be icey
Sexy as hell wearing my white tee
Rollers in your hair digging in your nose critiquing my flows
Cause you reflect my light a perfect sight 5 foot 8 height
Curve well opposite of pale is your skin tone
Quoting todayís math in your moans as we bone in a zone
Fuck a club Im happy at home when we alone
Listening to Badu while giving head 69 ways then breakfast in bed
Turkey bacon, eggs, and grits in silence our intense feelings
Speak through dense ceilings
Its foolish to call it love in fact its deeper than that
Higher than the highest understanding in fact


d fresh
12-07-2008, 11:13 PM
Page 7
E-pill hustling for them dollar bills we muscling
And would kill in tussling for that power
Was said by the big homey at rest
But he looked sick and bony from the stress
As we blow cigs discussing a phony mess
Of niggaz cracking on niggaz with less
Than them but donít own nothing
Niggaz got everything in their Mamaís name
Steadily the drama bang in trauma we hang
Seeing if the Doc can make a miracle
While the time it takes is unbearable
No one is secure enough to cry hysterical
But thatís life when you are in peril for dough
My people learn by defeat and jail
In rain, snow, sleet, or hail
Niggaz work all their life to another street tale
Of dudes getting money but they meet Montanaís end
Or doing football numbers in the pen
The same story told over and over again
Gunfire off the roof of the Brewsters
Athletes surviving off the loot from boosters
Sirens for the DPD coupes are the roosters of Detroit life
The beginning of the end if you point to the hype


12-08-2008, 12:09 AM
yoooooooooooooooooooooo dat shits naaaaasty man i love that shit yo mad props and if ur new fuckin welcome man! peace!

d fresh
12-23-2008, 03:03 PM
thanks fam. Peace

Mind detect mind at God speed manifesting what I read in scriptures
I sculpt pictures to ball like Sixers
Night Life fixture till Iím paid out of the grave
Salat made to focus distraught ways
MCs caught blaze when I heat up like Johnny Storm
In the line of fire like Bonnie and Clyde torn
By piercing slugs build with fierce and drugged thugs
While they serving addicts
On the block I live todayís mathematics
Shedding light on the tragic
Pick your poison democratic or republican
After some loving its time to grub again
If I get full in life duels I send my wolves
To gobble chickens and pigs ruff
Rap John Mickens rigged tough on some big stuff
With explosive similes corrosive to enemies
Taken in doses of imagery
For eternity I put MCs in infirmaries for certainly