(Release)
|
|
(Release)
|
|
(Release)
|
|
[Gift of Gab]
|
Prevalent melanin elephant bailin
|
And carrying sedatives that'll give average lettermen callouses
|
Wrecking with savageness, catalyst
|
battling rappers'll stagger right after the dagger is left in it
|
Cherish ? (Release) Attica
|
Shatter your algebra with calculus (give it up)
|
Damage your pattern I'm pounding you so fabulous (give it up)
|
Enough is enough is enough and I'm busting up outta this shell
|
In eruption and rupture your structure the fuck with you (Release)
|
Up in you and cut you a costumer
|
Huffing and puffing, discussing absolutely nothing, disgusting
|
Plus I'm feeling me rushing up in your country percussion
|
No woman gets struck in the boundaries
|
Wake up if your lunging, I'm something, you're nothing (Release)
|
Now come see grunting, I'm hunting
|
For one emcees running
|
I'm stomping my foot through your army
|
They couldn't have stopped me with shoties
|
Oddity, why did he, why do these entire societies inside of societies
|
And survivors still remain alive (Release) emcees
|
Thriving to flow, opting to go
|
five hundred and fifty-five syllables to go
|
Split em' with subliminal intentional dentinal pro
|
Unlimited flow unriveted, inhibited, vindited
|
Now you can't get rid of it like (Release) business
|
Magnificent, intimate, in it with, in a minute, gonna be in a nicks
|
In it with a gig, big fat heads like eggs Benedict
|
Pigs lick shit, rip with words in a bismol energy
|
It's time I society beats release
|
|
[Saul Williams]
|
Inner breathlessness, outer restlessness
|
By the time I caught up to freedom I was out of breath
|
Grandma asked me what I'm running for
|
I guess I'm out for the same thing the sun is sunning for
|
What mothers birth their youngens for
|
And some say Jesus coming for
|
For all I know the earth is spinning slow
|
Suns at half mast 'cause masses ain't aglow
|
On bended knee, prostrate before an altered tree
|
I've made the forest suit me
|
Tables and chairs
|
Papers and prayers
|
Matter versus spirit
|
A metal ladder
|
A wooden cross
|
A plastic bottle of water
|
A mandala encased in glass
|
A spirit encased in flesh
|
Sound from shaped hollows
|
The thickest of mucus released from heightened passion
|
A man that cries in his sleep
|
A truth that has gone out of fashion
|
A mode of expression
|
A paint splattered wall
|
A carton of cigarettes
|
A bouquet of corpses
|
A dying forest
|
A nurtured garden
|
A privatized prison
|
A candle with a broken wick
|
A puddle that reflects the sun
|
A piece of paper with my name on it
|
I'm surrounded
|
I surrender
|
All
|
All that I am I have been
|
All I have been has been a long time coming
|
I am becoming all that I am
|
The spittle that surrounds the mouth-piece of the flute
|
Unheard, yet felt
|
A gathered wetness
|
A quiet moisture
|
Sound trapped in a bubble
|
Released into wind
|
Wind fellows and land merchants
|
We are history's detergent
|
Water soluble, light particles, articles of cleansing breath
|
Articles amending death
|
These words are not tools of communication
|
They are shards of metal
|
Dropped from eight story windows
|
They are waterfalls and gas leaks
|
Aged thoughts rolled in tobacco leaf
|
The tools of a trade
|
Barbers barred, barred of barters
|
Catch phrases and misunderstandings
|
But they are not what I feel when I am alone
|
Surrounded by everything and nothing
|
And there isn't a word or phrase to be caught
|
A verse to be recited
|
A mantra to fill my being in those moments
|
I am blankness, the contained center of an "O"
|
The pyramidic containment of an "A"
|
I stand in the middle of all that I have learned
|
All that I have memorized
|
All that I've known by heart
|
Unable to reach any of it
|
There is no sadness
|
There is no bliss
|
It is a forgotten memory
|
A memorable escape route that only is found by not looking
|
There, in the spine of the dictionary the words are worthless
|
They are a mere weight pressing against my thoughtlessness
|
But then, who else can speak of thoughtlessness with such confidence
|
Who else has learned to sling these ancient ideas
|
like dead rats held by their tails
|
so as not to infec |