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Old 02-09-2010, 02:30 PM   #88
Prophet Picasso
Coming of Age...
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Join Date: Aug 2007
Location: Sheol
Age: 33
Posts: 185
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Prophet Picasso crouching tiger

Preciate the love. I'm trying to pick the pen back up....

I burst from the cervix, breakin forth from the birth canal/
unhurt, un-alert to my new locale, a blue earth thatís foul/
soon as they snip the umbilical, I spit scriptures thatís Biblical/
several songs from hymnals that would echo through citadels/
from the peaks of the Pamirs to the Pyrenees pinnacles/
Christian clerics were critical, but I was praised by the Seminoles/
I eluded the cynical who were true to the pursuit of the trivial/
the pitiful religious who considered the prodigious to be typical/
as an infant I spit hints of mathematics you wonít find in print/
every line was mint, youíd catch my glint if you didnít squint/
years came and went, I learned to sprint when I saw police tint/
an early Verbal Kint, hellbent on gettin rent or doin a stint/
adolescence was my advent, the avenue was like a magnet/
I ran it savagely on the average, caught in the drugsí dragnet/
my soul was stagnant as piss puddles in a project stairwell/
I didnít fare well til I found out my words and beats paired well/
now itís farewell to even excellent emcees, they in hindsight/
cuz when I rhyme right they get quite scared of my mindís light/
every lineís tight, I roll top flight thatís bout as sticky as epoxy/
my chick is brown and foxy, I roll like yahtzee, my flow is nazi/
oops, I meant nasty, Iím the best, no question, so donít ask me/
in my widebody Caddy, told my girl twelve just went past me/
so put the blunt down, we run round uptown and bust serves/
hit a Motel 6 amidst the rough curbs so I can run in and touch her/
sheís a nutmeg skin mistress, a young princess with almond eyes/
we on a chocolate high, sippin amaretto, twistin chocolate thai/
outside the motel window, you smell indo when you walkin by/
me and my misses sharin strawberry kisses in a vanilla sky/
beforehand I tell her she too cute in that Coogi and blue boots/
afterward she say Iím the truth and put it down like bruised fruit/
Iím the same in the bed as in the booth, Iím coming for the temple/
never off track or simple, raw facts, y'all cats is all wack and crippled/
scrawl raps on windows in winter to a rhythm of horse-claps and fiddles/
I spring back in summer, since some a y'all was soft as a nipple/
this is simple, Iíve written it for illiterates, to be rap of the year/
put this crack in ya ear til you fill a canyon with tears and abandon ya fears...
Image is everything except the truth.
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