Chino XL


It’s crazy… 

masterpiece, no mistakes 
Back in the1800s I was burned at the stake 
Metaphor Mephistopheles, 
Degrees I’ve achieved 
The brain fluid it takes to believe 
would equal the seven seas 
I could reveal the true name of God 
But you would go insane upon hearing in 
Release enough winds to 
blow down pyramids 
I’m the Michelangelo of syllable 
Since I freestyle 
Genesis been biblical 
That’s something you got to give in to 

(Verse I) 
Since born in my mama’s vaginal sauna 
As a sonogram, I’ve been fond of phonics 
It’s ironic, even as an embryonic 
Fed through an umbilical 
don’t that sound biblical? 
I’ve been a terror 
Since I teareth out of the uterus 
Because evil plans were made to defeat us 
As a fetus 
Though now I walk in infamy 
As a child they had it in for me 
Was raised with guns in infantry 
In diapers and in infancy 
The childhood of a hood 
that was raised in the hood 
Cops said “put your hands in the hot sky” 
I put my hands down on the hot hood 
I can’t whine or drink wine 
Nine planets planned it 
‘Til it became apparent 
My parents shouldn’t have been a parent 
State to state we ran some 
I wasn’t worth no ransom 
Money, won’t you hand some? 
A nigga wasn’t handsome 
Raise the mind like Charles Manson’s 
New I was some man’s son 
But which one? 
That made me strong 
created my poison tongue… 


(Verse II) 
Why you cut school? 
Cause you ain’t feel too good 
I cut school 
cause my cuts ain’t heal too good 
Through all the physical abuse 
My mind escaped 
through the gift of wordplay 
I memorized encyclopaedias and dictionaries 
I wrote anthems from antonyms 
Harmonies from homonyms 
Created cinema from synonyms 
Was livid to eliminate 
that illustrious life you’re livin’ in 
Wrote rhetoricals in rhythms
I could paralyze with a parable 
Made rhymes out of religion 
Use a prefix as a crucifix 
Or suffocate you with a suffix 
Wrote lectures so infectious 
They’re known to infect the listeners 
Who dissin’ us? 
Yo punks you wait – I punctuate 
My karma’s the comma 
That put you inside of a coma 
Hyphen, semi-colon, dot, dot 
Leave you semi-swollen 
Question: You pregnant? 
Oh you’re not? I love you, Period. 
To sum it up, language is my essence 
Fucked up in all my adolescence 
Till my Mom’s was out of lessons 
Laws, I store convenient 
Still I rob a convenience store 
Love Mom, Fuck Mom, 
Shit, I don’t love me no more 
Mentally it didn’t register, bitch 
Empty the register, bitch 
You just a cashier, bitch 
Give the cash, here 
Or I’ll shoot you in your cabbage 
Hijack a getaway cab, bitch 
Words ain’t makin’ me no loot 
Don’t change now Dow Jones average 
Regardless, we’re Godless 
They stole my innocence 
In a sense, the judge sentenced me 
To 3 lifetimes sentences 
To put my life in times and sentences 
Art my dark archnemesis 
They want me off the premises 
That’s what the premise is 
Locked on a tier 
where you can’t shed a tear at 
I studied more Shakespeare 
Than any African can shake a spear at 
And the whole world fears that 
And it hurts 
I got caught for killing time 
But then I got with words 


People can say whatever they want about me 
But agree that I am the Wordsmith 
They can try to ignore everything that I’ve achieved 
But agree that I am the Wordsmith 
I am the Wordsmith 
The love of words is deep in my brain 
Must be to silence my pain 
I am the Wordsmith 

(Verse III) 
I’m in a game full of morons 
And they keep putting more on 
I tutor the Torah 
I’m in the core of the Qu’aran 
The mind’s what I represent 
And mc’s better re-present 
I’m taking this rappin’ bullshit 
to the fullest extent 
I have reservations 
why Indians are on reservations 
Told that board of education 
I was bored of education 
As far as this go 
I leave you deader than Disco 
Rocking sex and violence 
Over sax and violins 
Through your minds camera lens 
You’re in need of an ambulance 
I’ll knock you to the asphalt 
It’s your own ass fault 
Your last thought 
I’ll never sell my self short to be famous 
And taking it up the anus just ain’t us 
The world could get the penis 
Of this classically trained pianist 
My P.O. was p.o.’d 
Handed me a cup, told me to “pee in this” 
The linguist musician 
My college position is that my intuition 
Told me I wouldn’t be affordin’ tuition 
My education’s all on my own 
I might have been born yesterday 
But I rhyme like there’s no tomorrow… 


Zdroj: http://zpevnik.wz.cz