Friday, February 25, 2011

Well...well...A ROPE OF SAND!!

Damn, it's been...a while. I'm a lazy nigga. Anyways, I've had many adventures during the year, none of which will be shared you. Ha. I made myself laugh. Score.

I've gotten more into my lil $40 acoustic guitar and now I want to do a duet with someone. Shit would be cash. I'm a good back up singer, but lead vocals...neh. MY lead vocals are only hip-hop oriented. Speaking of which here's a new rap of mine called, "R.A.P. (Rhythm and Poetry)"

The link is the beat, and here's the lyrics:

Rhythm and poetry, come flow with me.
Exploding words from obscure thoughts conceived.
Believe in me who released the truth.
The truth is absolute, so keep ya mind bullet proof.
Never stoop too low or you'll be on your knees.
Perceive perfection or burn beyond a billion degrees.
Moonlight guides my thought to new levels.
Take the treble out and let the bass bust loud.
Crowd faces me and there's no way I stutter.
Making flows smoother than lanolin based cocobutter.
You shutter from the beast inside me.
Rhythm and poetry wont you come guide me.
Like the way I talk then you can walk right beside me.
Icy winds cool my temper, now I'm dieing like the ember.
Remember thoughts of rhythm and poetry.

Rhythm and Poetry means I flow lively.
The jive give you jitters and sweetens the bittered.
Sparkin tunes to inspire the withered.
I'm not the taker; I'm clearly the giver.
Never a quitter, I skitter across the sands of time.
Lay lines divine that sparkle bright in the stary night.
Right hand is free, but the left holds the M. I.C.
I set the record straight plainly.
I'm the disdain. No, I'm not the opressor.
I stain your brain with words quell your pain.
Yes. I'm beyond gifted, you can say I'm supercalafragalistic.
And I'm especially the dopest.
Quote the words that I wrote.
I might elope and run away and take the mic to a new plane.
Name's Master Flows Moses.
Rhythm and poetry smokes like the dopeness.

Rhythm and poetry, metaphors and similies spoke to me.
Mad synergy made by a mad man.
Clasped hands, a deep embrace,
waining moon lights your face.
Twilight hugs your hips,
magic warmth fills your fingertips.
Never let the record skip.
As you know Moses is sweeter than honey dip.
Drop the wise talk and I'll show you how a real man rocks.
Stop the presses, stop the clocks.
Use this gun to shatter the locks, and TNT for the writer's block.
You better wise up if you wanna get down.
No jokes, jukes nor clowns.
Just playin that Flomont sound.
Rhythmic skills of the wise tongue denys fun to no one.
Cut the notes throat, break neck, no i won't choke.
Masterful Moses breaks down the flows.
Shinin brighter than platinum. Brighter than gold.

Stay fresh.