Prince Rai
12-22-2008, 06:03 AM
Sheepish and Prince
Driven down the row ain’t hear a peep from Saint Nick
My ears been clean picked like a lock vault kit/
Spit a lick tongue sticks to poles like A Christmas Story yo
Hear the whistling Dixie click up the heels thinking its wizardry/
Oh nah it’s just Dorothy with her band of goofy fellows
Bellow out lions cowardly stallions to be just as mellow/
Never an abrasion, scar or no worry to hurry
When you got no brains like a scarecrow/
Your heart is too hard to be soft as ice cream via Mr. Softy
Melt cha silicone around cha girl’s silly cones/
Open domes christen them like turkey’s that just got baptized
Whenever I hear rapper spout “bling, bling money ain’t a thing”/
Alls I can think is your brain is dead, and no heart to blead
I don’t think ya got corn fed or you even eat emcees for breakfast, lunch or dinner/
Oops when I give thanks I don’t wig on pigs
I gig on lids give them knowledge for the kids/
From Hollis to Jamaica Queens you’ve seen tragedy happily happy hazards
To the mean streets of the Salt City it ain’t pretty by no means necessary/
Even when you enter all hollows eve
You best believe death is around every corner/
Hold cha honor I best con ya out cha bother
Never seen cloaks go up in smoke like when rap was still trapped up in coke/
Crystallize any means by the hypnotized check the rhymes dropped
I can alphabet soup your clock when I’m around like the Harlem Globetrotters/
Appearing in blotters dial up your honors viable commas be drama
Brought by everybody’s baby’s mommas so you best talk it out/
I don’t have to walk it out wit no new stomps I just spit a verse off my dome
Wrote flows that can’t often be cloned even if I was enshrined in ROME/
I’d still be throwing darts that still roam at home, you never know
How the peeps respond when your wrestling wit thoughts all your own/
This is history rolled out in misery
So dread people tend to forget it
Now me and rai are hear to correct it
Flip the flow beta cap check the pirates that never rap
They sing in tones mono so much so they don’t know they can’t hold a spell/
A rebel yell louder than a chick getting fucked by multiple men and chicks
Egyptian temples mind roam the country side til old men show up dead/
Drifted Clint’s way got me a dirty eye broken jaw and no wordplay
I head the candle in the wind, the wrinkle in time, the life sublime/
Still I couldn’t get a reckon on a proper time it all looked smudged together
Saw colors blurring sketches soon speaking and slurring, was I heart attacking/
Or simply collapsing similar to Jay Leno’s monologues with no funny just money
Top slotted hold out like the hobbits I bobbed it when I weaved it/
Seeing the world’s oil go up in flames thinking I was apart of the cast of Back to the Future II
The way shit looked so shrouded in fear I started drinking Homer’s beer while loading up my rifle/
This is history rolled out in misery
So dread people tend to forget it
Now me and rai are hear to correct it
I enter this atmosphere of Christmas Festivity,
but maintain my stance on a murderous degree,
my work of art reflects a virteous reality,
Christmas for Christ? Yeshua Ben Yosef was his name, does anybody know this?
I can see Area 51 beings in motion in 3D,
all because my genes resemble G.O.D.,
My rymes are superior-like, AlMighty,
at first your "Christ" doubted me,
but he died on the cross begging for your mercy,
you ask yourself, "Why's Prince so nasty?",
that's because I don't cloud my eyes and live my life in misery,
the truth is no mystery to me,
do you know why I made red the colour of this festivity?
That's because I write my rymes from the red ink from my pen,
drained out from the same people who terrorised the poor in their beds,
much of your rituals resemble Greek and Roman mythology,
seasoned and executed by Pagan methodology,
in reality,
the profits generated by your spendings sponsor demonology,
Satan clinches the first opportunity to slice Rudolphs throat off,
and with a bottle of Smirnoff lay back and watch the festival of joy,
watching poor kids cry while the rich smother themselves
in material their dads employ,
Who said Jesus borned on the 25th? The Gregorian calender didn't even exist!
How is Santa your saint? If I told yall this is a hoax would you faint?
This is history rolled out in misery
So dread people tend to forget it
Now me and the Lord are hear to correct it
You know that Section 9 needs no introduction,
each member a spark of illustrious imagination,
leading to your crews destruction,
our jewels are hard to find in foreign possession,
our plans too hard to decipher,
heavily encrytped, our words enscripted in Bibles in all forms,
Christmas Carols sung out in all dorms,
our seeds are planted in places with no norms,
making sense of this is making no sense so don't sensualise,
this highly sensitive, explosive Christmas gift.
From cradle to grave, prophets are born and then heavenly raised,
eternally praised in many ways, but never as capitalistic like these days,
if you think Christmas you think Coca Cola adverts beemed out in waves,
so sit back and reflect and spend time with your families,
because some will never enjoy those for-granted-taken luxuries,
Sheepish the Lord and Prince still maintain the PEACE
amongst this angst and misery, drizzled on this festivity.
Merry XMAS and Happy New Year from us and on behalf of S9 nahmean?!?!
Driven down the row ain’t hear a peep from Saint Nick
My ears been clean picked like a lock vault kit/
Spit a lick tongue sticks to poles like A Christmas Story yo
Hear the whistling Dixie click up the heels thinking its wizardry/
Oh nah it’s just Dorothy with her band of goofy fellows
Bellow out lions cowardly stallions to be just as mellow/
Never an abrasion, scar or no worry to hurry
When you got no brains like a scarecrow/
Your heart is too hard to be soft as ice cream via Mr. Softy
Melt cha silicone around cha girl’s silly cones/
Open domes christen them like turkey’s that just got baptized
Whenever I hear rapper spout “bling, bling money ain’t a thing”/
Alls I can think is your brain is dead, and no heart to blead
I don’t think ya got corn fed or you even eat emcees for breakfast, lunch or dinner/
Oops when I give thanks I don’t wig on pigs
I gig on lids give them knowledge for the kids/
From Hollis to Jamaica Queens you’ve seen tragedy happily happy hazards
To the mean streets of the Salt City it ain’t pretty by no means necessary/
Even when you enter all hollows eve
You best believe death is around every corner/
Hold cha honor I best con ya out cha bother
Never seen cloaks go up in smoke like when rap was still trapped up in coke/
Crystallize any means by the hypnotized check the rhymes dropped
I can alphabet soup your clock when I’m around like the Harlem Globetrotters/
Appearing in blotters dial up your honors viable commas be drama
Brought by everybody’s baby’s mommas so you best talk it out/
I don’t have to walk it out wit no new stomps I just spit a verse off my dome
Wrote flows that can’t often be cloned even if I was enshrined in ROME/
I’d still be throwing darts that still roam at home, you never know
How the peeps respond when your wrestling wit thoughts all your own/
This is history rolled out in misery
So dread people tend to forget it
Now me and rai are hear to correct it
Flip the flow beta cap check the pirates that never rap
They sing in tones mono so much so they don’t know they can’t hold a spell/
A rebel yell louder than a chick getting fucked by multiple men and chicks
Egyptian temples mind roam the country side til old men show up dead/
Drifted Clint’s way got me a dirty eye broken jaw and no wordplay
I head the candle in the wind, the wrinkle in time, the life sublime/
Still I couldn’t get a reckon on a proper time it all looked smudged together
Saw colors blurring sketches soon speaking and slurring, was I heart attacking/
Or simply collapsing similar to Jay Leno’s monologues with no funny just money
Top slotted hold out like the hobbits I bobbed it when I weaved it/
Seeing the world’s oil go up in flames thinking I was apart of the cast of Back to the Future II
The way shit looked so shrouded in fear I started drinking Homer’s beer while loading up my rifle/
This is history rolled out in misery
So dread people tend to forget it
Now me and rai are hear to correct it
I enter this atmosphere of Christmas Festivity,
but maintain my stance on a murderous degree,
my work of art reflects a virteous reality,
Christmas for Christ? Yeshua Ben Yosef was his name, does anybody know this?
I can see Area 51 beings in motion in 3D,
all because my genes resemble G.O.D.,
My rymes are superior-like, AlMighty,
at first your "Christ" doubted me,
but he died on the cross begging for your mercy,
you ask yourself, "Why's Prince so nasty?",
that's because I don't cloud my eyes and live my life in misery,
the truth is no mystery to me,
do you know why I made red the colour of this festivity?
That's because I write my rymes from the red ink from my pen,
drained out from the same people who terrorised the poor in their beds,
much of your rituals resemble Greek and Roman mythology,
seasoned and executed by Pagan methodology,
in reality,
the profits generated by your spendings sponsor demonology,
Satan clinches the first opportunity to slice Rudolphs throat off,
and with a bottle of Smirnoff lay back and watch the festival of joy,
watching poor kids cry while the rich smother themselves
in material their dads employ,
Who said Jesus borned on the 25th? The Gregorian calender didn't even exist!
How is Santa your saint? If I told yall this is a hoax would you faint?
This is history rolled out in misery
So dread people tend to forget it
Now me and the Lord are hear to correct it
You know that Section 9 needs no introduction,
each member a spark of illustrious imagination,
leading to your crews destruction,
our jewels are hard to find in foreign possession,
our plans too hard to decipher,
heavily encrytped, our words enscripted in Bibles in all forms,
Christmas Carols sung out in all dorms,
our seeds are planted in places with no norms,
making sense of this is making no sense so don't sensualise,
this highly sensitive, explosive Christmas gift.
From cradle to grave, prophets are born and then heavenly raised,
eternally praised in many ways, but never as capitalistic like these days,
if you think Christmas you think Coca Cola adverts beemed out in waves,
so sit back and reflect and spend time with your families,
because some will never enjoy those for-granted-taken luxuries,
Sheepish the Lord and Prince still maintain the PEACE
amongst this angst and misery, drizzled on this festivity.
Merry XMAS and Happy New Year from us and on behalf of S9 nahmean?!?!