u lack the tactual antics of the preying mantis as it attacks this,my vocab actually back-flips with more spins than a back-fist,having writ scripts on a black-list w/ red pen corrections on the back of it,it'l hyper-extend ur neck tendons if u even mention 1 of reddests sentences,electric fence gate entrences make it dangerous 2 reach in any direction,even straight bitch,ur basic matrix couldnt taste the colorless paste inside the tablets mother-less aliens make me take,so dry,as it dehydrates it flakes like dieing lice eggs,it deflates,sorta like my friends takin likes 2 face-book instead of my-space,makes my veins more narrow than bike-lanes as i fight these germ-sized poets in entire voids of typhoid,make em burn like saw-dust,or snow balls when u hold em 4 so long,1 note of my song is more potent than smoke from a bong when u set coals on the whole bowl and dont exhale at all

Posted on: 2011-05-19 16:16:05

My sun clambakes the sands, and shakes psychadelic stands, the way lands quake, when I make my hand-slammer a flapping fan, layed lightning, Holy-smoking contaminence. My wingspan's enough to jam, awake, and lift grand lakes up with my fist, if only I could pan your plate. Hiss a sizzle, and slander my name - I'll still triple-swish in your middle, and make you do a dance for the day, even if you ain't ample of my flavor. I'll still sample taste, and deliver any ham-fake a roasted turkey, tucking your glands englazed. Y'all pork-belly banded, and blamed, while I'll still manage a stage, uplifting you an angle, so you can spin transient to waves. Mangle me meant, and get entangled away from the grave, singin' random tangents, coming back to triangulate definitive chancing. I'm not angry, I'm enslaved, and so are these un-assholed blokes, who catch brand by the pave, so my roads are open to 'em prancin', 'til they save their own tokens. Flip in my canisters of change.

Posted on: 2011-05-20 08:03:12

good drops
Rated: 8

Posted on: 2011-05-21 02:09:08