Angular

unto itself it's incomplete

but made complete by my connection

the effervescent vestige of decimation

the decimal point seven thousandth of a percent

possession with the intent to make bent

I break bread with tack heads

in flight unflawed, with sight unseen

strangely configured with fire inside of a womb the size of an entire planet

born of fire

[Beans]

I'm so fly

you had no choice

love my torture

tailor denture fender

mauled by fur coats

unraveled like fabric

celebrate your failure

when the records spins your chance of wins is thin as threads

in the grip of a cripple

not identified in a line up, no similarity or purpose

so save breath for retreat, shriek like a grieving widow

cause life hates you, just like I do

you boot licking maggot

sound like a frog with emphysema

[Priest]

I say this with emphasis

somebody play this, repeat this

somebody said I was a phony

the first stunt from a one trick pony

a pretender to the throne, seat at the feet of the one before me

I changed the story

obscured the space in which you occupy

I rock with my nuts exposed for you to swing on

klingons kling on

bring on a cape and a scepter

connect the cathodes

my pathos goes back to crayons

on the track I extol

expose political figures with pictures and garters

and rock harder than your hardest track spitter

[Beans]

I love winter for all of the women I've kept warm

script gigolo systemic cataclysm

applies pressure at disposal

I picture dimension dismantle, if you try you will fail

none to shackle my anger

on the way up you on the way out, residence in text intense interpretation

revert like an echo

the merit of your opinions must taken with a total grain of nothing

[M. Sayyid]

hey yo my first step started with a sprint

then grew to a man spitting on tracks with a bottle and a limp

a wrinkled map

a screaming throttle and two cent to dent amps and

**** you cats up like a nymph

no sentiment is eminent my embitterment and

the many metaphors I cash in

collapse mc's to the blacktop in the backspins with no shirt while I am maxing

slapping asses in aspen

in a bubble bath laughing

your style: no dough like no ID at check cashing

leaving it alone

leave it to the man who's more bones

and walk the street with no chrome

long distance like a phone out of zones before the stones

and the bodies that got blown for loans and shown with a poem

and if you're quiet, in the wind you can hear the moans

if you're quiet, in the wind you can hear the moans...