Dub-13
my tounge flicks like guitar picks/ to vibrate the strings of fate/ flow
'til minds oversaturate/ could be siblings and you still wouldn't relate/
to my lyric library/ my simplest concepts you only get barely/ my lines got
so many levels/ they appear on spectrographs sedimenarily/ rarely matched
but never paralleled/ to the heart is how the mics' held/ many stepped to
spar/ all pulled the death card/ out the deck/ which was pumpin' Buddah's
latest hit/ I admit many domes split/ from the sonic waves I emit/ shit, my
calmest contemplation/ sparks wars between world power nations/ realize
just what you facin'/ when you escape your space station/ to land on
Buddah's terra firma/ where molten soil melts rubber soles to burn ya/
lines blast like the Pacific Rim/ blazin' flow from LA to Burma/ spurn the
industry/ I learned to never be/ a gear in the system/ rather a monkey
wrench thrown in to piss them/ off while they scoff/ at attempts to rebel/
I jack all their corporate earnings/ so my peoples pockets swell