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A Hip-Hop Song I Wrote That Got Featured In A Magazine

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A Free(d) Style: Science of Ignorance

If Hip-Hop is dead, then Im speaking from the grave

This noble art was buried by an ignorance wave

There once was meaning, its mark was clear

Now I gotta shine underground cause its dark down here

 

We gotta have some change to this fucking game list

Inane brains are famous while intellectuals remain nameless

And its not just this, any stupidity gets me pissed

Illogical bliss followers will always exist

 

Im a battle rapper, with the tone of a dapper

Challenge me and I become a lyrical bone snapper

Your words are hollow, and impossible to follow

You trying to spit but all you do is swallow

 

I love controversy, I share no mercy

Feasting on fools who think theyre worthy

Just enemies of reason in our search for purpose

With thoughts so shallow they cant even scratch the surface

 

I got thoughts so deep, most implode from the pressure

So they take blind leaps to invoke their own pleasures

Dont vent your opinion if you have no explanation!

Im belligerent to the ignorant with no foundation

 

My reason traverses the universe in one burst

Yet its terse enough to fit in one verse,

With passion that cant be rationed or stopped from lashin

At those mind fastin in ill minded fashions

Im a time splitter rhyme spitter sorting out the mind litter

Of missed hitters, pissed quitters, and ill-fated wrist slitters

You are reading the pinnacle of satirical lyricals

People call me cynical but Im just acting empirical

 

I rep impeccable technique, tasting beats like a synesthete

Rapping delectability unique with flows harder than concrete

With these loose lips that spit sick wit and sink syllable ships

While my noosed tongue relentlessly rips pitiful shits

 

Theres a place where reality has no devotion

The moons my emotion, my bloods a high ocean

It feels like Im caught in a slow motion explosion

As I watch the world crumble from my flow erosion

 

My words are more prevailing then the voice of a pastors

But my only prayer is when I prey on punk ass rappers

I dont put blind faith in failed science disasters

I am a slave to myself, so I am my own master

 

Martyr word slaughterer of my vocab department

I solder their carcasses to repair where my hearts bent

Depression drinks at the bar that you set to high

Gods afterlife is a lie like things I cant defy

 

Reminisce forgotten places and nameless faces once known

Cause in the end, your past will be the only thing you own

For my whole life, Ive had a need to define this

If my soul was cut open, I would bleed true science

- Jew-Unit

Rattlesnake93 Uploaded 01/05/2009
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