EEYORE


My throwaway verses have your heros doing homeless impressions...
Digging around in the garbage
Trying to spit mine but they’re sounding retarded
supposed up and coming, nah they’re all down and departed
sets of necks sprained when the tape deck rotates
Rappers are wack as OJ in that slow chase
Same year the Knicks had a title shot
Xavier McDaniel never should have left
I write a lot, namely when the fire’s applied
No wires to hide, you best just admire and vibe
Liars apply but they can’t quite make it to the front door
And if it’s not clear, let me say it once more

I’m sick of rap nowadays
Cause it’s how loud it plays
It isn’t how dope the artist is, pardon my bitterness
But stardom is image enlarged with the heart of a dinner mint
They say that they’re so dope, but I don’t know
They’re swearing up and down, but down they go

Who’s the wickedest? I just envision the flow
Put some worth in the words then I’m good to go
I hope cats get to share this with a couple of friends
Each verse written’s dope so I smuggle the pen
Don’t apologize, make subtle amends
Leaving foes melted in a puddle of phlegm
Fat prose welded to a Fangface beat
Indiana’s the place where I slang great speech
No Tanquery and gats, I’ve got a pen and paper
The deadly combination-foes on a ventilator
Pretend to labor, but my arrogance is basic
A dope beat without my voice-wasted
Waited my turn and now I’m making it burn hot
For the sake of the bass I slave away and then earn props
A day is a loss unless I’m making a song
Long awaited, I’m calm then nominated the bomb

They say that they’re so dope, but I don’t know
They’re swearing up and down, but down they go
I’m sick of rap nowadays
cause it’s how loud it plays
It isn’t how dope the artist is, pardon my bitterness
But stardom is image enlarged with the heart of dinner mint


S. Bryden for Slingvoltage (ASCAP)