45 NOTCHES


My track is worth the wait in golden cages, soul to blaze with bold abrasives
Hold your play list, I’m going to take the overrated
Cats down notches, making Chamberlain proud
Sankofa-the name your girl was made to pronounce
Shake your surround, now hand me that cape and the crown
You sound fake as a Vegas account, found down naked and bound
On a lilac chaise lounge duct taped with your crying face down
In the slums of Capetown, rocking mouse ears with your name proud
Hey now, didn’t want to get personal, you took it too far
Have some infected Sheryl Crow to go and eat with that fubar
Who ghost wrote your little lyrics, Bush’s speech writer?
Truly looking like a cracked out groupie groping Dee Snider
I’m the divider cipher leviathan, smacking weak rimers
Time for the vile grins, you roll with 3 Shriners
Bile binge, a mile into the journey of sweaty polyester
And underneath it all, you probably rocked your mommy’s sweater

Ain’t it cute, oh look at that-so sweet
Another bo peep sacrificing no sleep
Just like his idol Canibus, slightest saliva damages
Command of the banter, get your own style, man abandon ship
All that and it’s sick as a Dan Quayle quote
Special but you missed the K, so you get the balls, frail folk
Off base, diamond in the rough of project playgrounds
Louisevilles bruise broods and the kiddies stay down
Making a fake sound, who me, you got the person
I'm going to make you a big star…of a long sermon
I’m burning mics and nothing’s going to quell the flames
I'm tired of weak cats getting props, skill is seldom named
It’s like promoters find the incomplete and sell them fame
Ink to sheet, the contract’s signed and now there’s hell to pay
My rage is held away by pretending that I hate rap
I hate that but it’s the God’s honest and Allah’s promise

Sankofa’s bringing hell, I’m ringing bells of elves with bling and cells
Swinging it well, an Ase up my sleeves like the Cunninlynguists' 12
Zealous underlings repelled, rejecting every wretched message
Mentally stress the guests that set it, I dead a beat definitely freshest
S is one of the greatest, running away with your grand prize
You’re thong diarrhea, run but you can’t hide
And I, won by a landslide, stunting your damn pride
To drunken punch-in punks, I’m the anti
Man why, why in the world would you ever choose to step to me?
with an afterthought I’ll infect your destiny with STDs
Spitting a bastard blast that’s raw, flipping the script harass a cop
Yes indeed, got nazis speaking jive and saying mazeltov
The track is raw, but you knew it, Manic Depressive made it
35 samples and eight records shatter the rep of greatness
The last to step wept a lake complete with seas and rivers
Squeeze the withered innards of a vet till he’s a weak beginner


S. Bryden for Slingvoltage (ASCAP)