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Text Cypher
Length: 64 Lines each

"No sympathy for the fake and the weak"

Cosmonaut
~Ambidextrous Assassin Agency~

Cosmonaut

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Government's corruption growing exponentially and you're still salutin', you're not a human-being, just a pollutant, so inbred they call you Grandpa the Third, you're beyond impaired just a blank stare, you wouldn't get it if it hit you on the head, Isaac Newton, the human brain is a microprocessor, there's no refutin', but your's must be fried, ain't shit computin' my words blend with the page so fluid, the mixture's the solution; adamantium slash your ass like a mutant. Ain't no significant proceeds, just greed fuelin' a bunch of ho needs, I don't withold, when I strike knock you and the pen (pin) down tenfold like I was bowling, if I see you again must've got picked up and racked; come with a clean rhyme scheme, I'm like an Ice-Bee to anyone that intervenes, just serve em' the bold ink to give em' a cold sting—always revolting the revolver get me around this revolution that started, virtually over nothing—Your rhymes are soft and impotent like you just got off, feed wack players to gators; kill these pigs, mash em' up like taters; one wack line after another, absurd, worst I ever heard of, shitty as a turd, serve em' some murda; callin' someone a nerd, yet you're following the masses like you part of a herd; you incite the foe in me failing to write anything intellectually, I look down on your in disgust, there must be somethin' wrong with your brain, 'cause you refrain from contemplation like it's an abomination, read a dictionary and call it lyrical emancipation, keep it bloody, I'm so extra-rare, lyricist extraordinaire, evil as the witch of Blair. I never want to be normal, I aspire to never be average, that's why I will always get on the mic and spit savage—and if I ever feel like getting passive, I'll just switch up my style and crush you with the jaws of a crocodile I was lost in space, I mean heavy-paced gettin' laced and even still stayin' awake, lost the physical realm entirely, but that won't be stoppin' me from constantly grippin' choppas yeah fully automatic AK-47s landin' hollows in the eye holes and jawbones; Spittin a quick poem train of thought gone, the track  flawlessly carry it along it's path, finding enlightenment and solace in the knowledge, step up front if you're that fuckin' dumb get dropped to the Earth, smash you in the face in make sure it hurts, bust open your lip blood spillin out as it bursts, what a punk you start crying damn really?—what a pathetic creation, you could call it unintelligent design—Kid even starts to pout, his mom saying “it's okay, let it out”, irritatingly fuckin' loud like a lil' kid—a goddamned baby—my girl ain't even that pussy goddamn what a wussy. Fuck this guy I'ma gouge out his eye with a silver spoon leavin' a permanent wound, come again soon, make some room, VIP very impotent & passive. Alien acid I spit, muscle memory second nature shit, the composition of the lyrics settle internal, stickin' to your nerves consistently burn like napalm, until you lose the ability I know everything I wrote burning like hot coals assurin' you definitely feelin' me. Somethin' on your nerve? Oh snap, give him some aloe and show him to the gallows; Pretendin' you're somethin' that your imagination invented, making a fool of yourself, it's ridiculous, I mean seriously man, goddamn, what could possibly be your incentive? Don't act livid and try to get rash like a blemish, I bet you won't think it's cool when you get hit with the heat, and your life-force diminish—end up finished, laying on the ground as your blood forms in to a pool. Accelerate your mind by taking LSD in order to be an M.C. worthy of rhyming with me, meditate to a higher consciousness of metaphysics, methodical and lyrically algorithmic, until its part of your spirit, carry on cross on your 36 miles through the sand to get your chakras in line with the sacred holy land; never be more lyrical than me, that's heresy, you make a fool of yourself that must be embarrassing, if you were you'd have an answer to your prayer cause that'd be a miracle; Comparing the two, me to you, Mark Twain profound to Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch; never hold back when I rap, motherfucker I'll eat your lunch—get your skull cracked I'm a Slayer, Metal Heads see a spark from the brain, sever your brain and individually separate each layer. I bring life to barren sands like a desert oasis, putting ingenuous emcees in their places—real artists used to something good being misunderstood, subjected to  controversy, criticized without mercy, and considered unworthy—just one of the many obstacles a true lyricist faces; These wack raps comin' from these fags suckin' cack—I mean cock—smokin' crack rock, suckin' that glass dick like they're ten again and it's their daddy's dick, every concept they say is gay, everything they say in every way in the very way they behave, I'm just telling it like it is, this bloke saying it's “dope” must be a joke, the reason that you choke isn't coke, you got a cock down your throat; Valentine's day, you feel divine—fine—take a rope and hang your faggot ass like the pope; turned into a holy man. Just murder pen ink in my pad writing eulogy raps for when you die, getting skyhigh like Spicoli; Don't got cash, only cream from getting smashed in your ass, like you were fifteen again at a Catholic Mass. You're nothing but trash, shatter your physical frame like glass, it was my opinion that you sucked until you proved it a fact,g you were  dressing in drag day dreaming you were on your period getting fucked by a stag, trying harder to get your hands on some balls than a goalie, your face always look like Billiards in the rack, going down more than a smack fiend with dope-tracks; the only way you regulate is when you make sure the balls stay empty like a ballcock; hosting gay orgies so you can play with as many as 21, like blackjack getting pinned down like a thumbtack; when you're left alone you're taken aback, all alack and depressed like a sad sack—put you on Prozac. Some people call me shallow, 'cause my rhymes are elevated and gritty like a shoal when I flow. Running your mouth, what the fuck do you know anything about? All talk and no show, you're a hoe, using all the money your escrow, looking desperately for some bollocks to caress slow and a soft dick in your throat you can make grow sucking hard 'till you got lockjaw. I'm nothing but real, flow so smooth its fluid, and I'm so cold when I go hard the sentences are solid as they begin to  congeal. I write every line with zeal, spit flames that lyrically anneal,  if you fuck around I'll make it seem surreal as you give up and I donate your blood call my my whip the bloodmobile; actin' soft and genteel on the track you'll get treated like veal; someone flyfishing will pull you up in a fish creel cause you were trying to live fly. Misdeal, it'll be the last time you see, it'll be an ordeal., leave permanent scars on your corneal—bottom-line, after listening to me, Kid, you gonna see things differently.

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Cypher started: March 27^th 2014 at 01:20

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