Mexican people hate everyone.
Added: 3 months ago
Views: 83,086
At my high school talent show...lots of stomach-clutching for some reason. Dunno why, but
At my high school talent show...lots of stomach-clutching for some reason. Dunno why, but anyway...
And my friends wanted me to post the lyrics since I can't be heard that well, so here ya go:
Now I may as well proceed, cuz white boy jokes are played as hell.
What I say impels the cultus...I am the alpha and omega male.
Even if I had writer's block when I wrote this
It's hard to entertain without stopping to notice
What your existence comprises of—the lies and loves
Come with the turf you plant your feet on and hope to rise above
But I'm enticed enough by the cats in the bleachers
With their limited admirable features, but half of MC's are
Predestined to be a microcosm in this glamorous orgeee
Of blood, sweat, MTV, and Bacardi Lime,
While the other half is scornfully, mourning these harder times,
Of whoring the art of rhyme to those who can hardly rhyme.
So martyrs line up for the latest way to say hip-hop is dead
Naw, rap is more like Busta Rhymes...it was rocking dreads
Then it cut 'em off to mark the birthing of a new entity,
But mainstream went gangrene and made a few enemies.
So either you defend the streets or you're living seven feet
Underground—then claim that everybody dumbs it down.
See we all run around this debate, people drown it with hate
And in the end none of these clowns innovate.
But then you got a problem wanting to rap
When the only hood that you rep was bought at the Gap
Cuz you're little cracker, a brittle rapper
Belittled after you try to emulate the forefathers who set the stage
For you to choke on, cuz everyone expects your fate
To rinse and repeat failure the way it has for so long.
So we're sewed on to the archetypes; no matter the skill, we're still a vice
Like we spark the mic for the sake of the mission to vindicate Vanilla Ice
I know what the feeling's like. Every day I gotta watch it...
A surge of Eminems that could overwhelm a chocoholic.
And it stops the progress. Enjoy this 80-line diatribe,
I'm just the kind of guy to rock cathartic harmonies
It's hard to be concise, I resent the structured verses
With bars equal to the years on a reluctant virgin
And if you understood that, then you're the one I'm rapping for
And if not...appealing to you is over half the war
Cuz we aren't on the right track, 14 years after
We had the Common Sense to personify rap
As a woman. I'm amusing we forgot to use a rubber
Cuz we used to love H.E.R., then we woke up and called her a cab
Now we're all in a jam, as we follow the fads
But I got too much pride, I'm not swallowing that.
The rest can wallow through rap, I got none to convert.
I'll keep running this earth—like I said, it comes with the turf.
Oh and by the way, don't misinterpret this wording, it's
Only my conscience, playing competitive double dutch on my temporal lobe.
Don't attempt to label me; I spent the last 18 years
With a vast aching fear of being categorized, having to rhyme about
My Pokemon cards and my GameCube, as a prelude to a writer of
Nothing but nonsense, letting insanity run amok on the mental scope
Which, for me, has gotta be broader than Pamela Anderson's bust
So I can actually trust that my rapping is fly. And I know half of the lines
That I spit are in pretentious sets of three.
But I don't apologize if my lyricism gets the best of me.
I'm required by law to let you know I'm a registered sexy beast
Till I rest in peace, so don't be vexed if these
Lady-killing verses make your girl keel over dead.
Fuk head over heels, I'd rather have her heels overhead.
Yeah, I say what you can't, so you can't help but acknowledge me
My flamboyance fosters a more fanatic female following.
I don't care if all I see's a cynical crowd,
I'll deliver it loud, cuz I only live in the now.
So when anyone tells me a rapper isn't the thing to be,
I evolve beneath the radar, and father time winks at me:
The rapping Daniel Plainview, there's always some'n I will take.
My straw reaches across the world—I drank Kelis's milkshake.
And there will be blood, if you try to look
Like I'm not eons beyond what's in your idol's rhyming book.
Sometimes, I look at what I've become, and realize
I'm only partly a man...naw, my karma's not damned,
I don't dance with the devil, Tech told me it's nothing but wrong.
But the devil danced for me, so I slid a buck in its thong.
I'm still stuck in this long battle with who I am now,
Representing all the Synapses moving the crowd.
My vernacular is that of the writers who fight to manage,
So I take it as a rite of passage, when I write a passage.
I put me on the page; I'm not trying to blend,
I let God and Lucifer fight over guiding the pen.
And he who knows doesn't speak, but I know that
I wreak havoc, now ease back, kids, relax.
Had to edit the "heels over head" line after they dangled my graduation in front of me for saying it on the first day haha.
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"MIRANDO" from RATATAT's LP3
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