A Collection of 4-Liners
(Internet Keystylin')
October '97 - December '98

"passin no failure" 
. . .empty out the trash like a park full of trailers/ 
distribute my knowledge by ways of P.O. Box mailers/ 
looked up your address/
and then threw on the stamp/ 
brighten up your mindstate like HALOgen lamps. . .

"more fuel to my fire" 

. . .the wick of my rhymes remains lit/
burn sands like the devils in the fiery pit/
sting your eyes like the fluids that Jurassic beasts spit/
my flows smell your room up/'cuz you know they're the sh*t ;o). . .

"Backstreet Boyz" 

. . .destroyed your whole backbone/you're left with no poise/ 
you fear my whole wrath/like a boss who employs/
play with your mind/
like infants do toys/
sift through the fakes to find the real McCoy. . .


"for your Hilfiger" 

. . .the ultimate plot of unfortunate gold-diggers/
Blacks need to escape the stigma of bein' a n@gga/
but truly. . .most have/ 
cuz' it's just a mindstate/you're a n@gga if you choose/
not by birth, at any rate/ 
blessed with the heritage of transcending hate/ 
"We Shall Overcome" by virtue of fate. . .

"confuse the meds" 

. . .aware of the danger/you alert the "Code Red"/
"Ring the Alarm" like Fu-Schnickens said/
got you locked on my style like the partners in "Fled"/
break molds like headboards/
in beds of newlyweds. . .

"built from cardboard" 

. . .tragically sliced like a Shanghai sword/
forth from your body/ a stream of blood poured/
your liquid lifeline at this time can't afford/ 
to be lost/
like your life all this time you've adored/
experience the pain you've just now explored/
and wonder why your independent soul has just soared/ 
away from the body that was recently gored /
cut from existence like umbilical cords. . .

"demolition of all opposition" 

. . .the blade of my thoughts/
causes mental incisions/
accurately swung/
I slice with inspiring precision/
my vision as an emcee is to lift the unrisen/
with wisdom/
transcend time like side-effects of nuke fission. . .

"what do you got to say" 

. . .remaining silent is a gift that I choose to display/
but spray beautiful verses/ 
like Valentine's day bouquets/
passin on wisdom like a mental relay/
and slay/ 
all negative-minded emcees in my way/
I'll pay my respects from behind the paramedics/
tryin to save your life/
but they might as well forget it/ 
running off at the mouth like a verbal diarhettic/
take the "IGNORANCE" and dead it/ 
and take heed of who just said it. . . 

"upon my thirst" 

. . .apparently anxious to ignite the rebirth/ 
now I sit back and question this whole task's worth/ 
I try to stay grounded like when you step on the earth/ 
Stifling my excitement/
and controlling my mirth/ 
am I the only one who enjoys layin short rhymes/ 
or because of the replies do you not have the time/ 
for your PC to load lines/
at the drop of a dime/ 
is that's the case/
just state it/
with me it'll be fine. . .


". . .that you weak in your bio" 

. . .biography's weak/
cuz it was poorly written/
but my thoughts provide worth to the words that I'm spittin/
Teeth remain clenched from when my rhymes were bitten/
soon taste my lyrical spanking/ 
it'll prevent you from sittin. . .

"I don't listen" 

. . .the task of slaying emcees makes my brow start to glisten/ 
wack emcees thrive off the beef and the dissin/ 
so this path I'm dismissin/
I'll create my own trail/
I'll pioneer a new "rhyme front" without fail. . .

"state is not well" 

. . .engaged in a war/
without the sounding of the bell/ 
2nd Round Knockout like Canibus gave L.L./
the result when beef gets way over your head/
first attempt may be strong/
but you'll end up dead. . .


"Fear Trick-Knowledgry" 

. . .subconsciously/
I seemed to have looked over Vex/ 
a mistake more fatal/than French-kissing 6 Techs/
more outstanding than the combined length of 10 giraffes' necks/ 
more ridiculous than the price of a '99 Lex. . . 

(a '99 Lex) 

. . .more tragic than that Lex crashed in 69 wrecks/
more painful than Bobbits who want to have sex/
more vexed than 6 witches placing you under a hex/
or sewing 'yo a$$hole closed after 90 bowls of Chex. . .

"like an on-line pager" 

. . .it's potential is major/
but English is my minor/ 
as emcees we've mastered the art of 4-liners/
give birth to word-play like Zeus did Apollo/
entrusted in legend like that of Sleepy Hollow. . .

"behold Profit the master of rhyme" 

skillful emcee in this cypha divine/
Profit with his surplus of worthy 4-lines/
yet intertwined. . .you can find/
the existence mine/
aging lovely in your mind/
like fine select wine. . .

"fine select wine" 

. . .I return to the craft that I can't put behind/
Inseparable duo like Hollywood & Vine/
I ask for four lines/but here I'll lace nine/ 
dangerously lethal to your life like a benign/
tumor/
but I don't humor when cancer's the issue/
that's a soft topic/
like new improved Kleenex tissue. . .