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Hey Guys, I'll Start My Stay Here With A Rap


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Critique appreciated ;)

It's the boy holding a broken cordless/

Standing on the stage yelling loud in his mind and yet he remains voiceless/

Poises himself to sink his poison into the crowd/

His vocal chords vibrating he's starting to get loud but/

Words caught in his throat keep chokin him out/*pouting, the kid's shouting, dumbfounded and strained/

Stressed, brain caving, untrained,*

Ripping his membrane apart paining 'em/

Feigning confidence is hard when your going insane and your seeing stars, fumblin through the bars that remain/

He braces himself to enter the game, wipes his head off with his stained sweater/

Suddenly his flow is wetter, words start stickin' together/

Like balls in hot weather, heatin' up like grilled cheddar/

Noticeably better, the crowd starts to vibe, going hard like a barb through the heart Crikey/

Steve's poking this sleeping beast with a pike/

He's sick, green, Superman spittin' kryptonite on the mic/

In his mind, it's griping, the way he's fighting/

Trying to overcome the biggest fear in his life/

Stifling, climbing a mountain of this height/

Spittin riddles and cipher, systematically producing proverbs *like *he came from China/

An alien talking a foreign language they understand, his pen sketching verse for verse in your head/

A lyrical gun, curving bullets into your ears/

Taking a tour to the frontal lobe having a world premiere/

Then out through the other side hitting Angelina Jolie,a screw ball, straying/ It ricochets off of the wall, hits you in the spine, now you're sipping through a straw/

These metaphors, turned cynical physically unable to stand tall/

You've been mauled,suddenly it goes white/

The doctors sterilized the mic/ realizes you're paralyzed, starts Surgery like/*

I'm losing him! Someone check his windpipe/

The syllables must have lodged themselves Deep, they've started to seep/

Like a bite from this poisonous sidewinder/

Leaving you like a mime, silent, now lets rewind cuz/

I just let you into my mind/

My thinker is on the fritz and I can't seem to produce a line/

that let's me introduce myself I'm brain dead/

Just call me a deceased Clark Kent instead/

Hell sent, dead set on bustin you open and filling your head/

Bet you weren't planning on eaves dropping on the living dead/

The MC contaminating your skull with my alphabetical rigor mortis/

Cesar's flow startin to slow down like a tortoise/

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Hey

Welcome to Songstuff!

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Welcome :) ...

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