The Sick Lyricist

K.I.S.S.  (KEEP IT SIMPLE STUPID)

Too many emcees rhyme about the guns they bust
but an army trains to move in a tactical rush.
I’m an army of one.
So they can keep all of their guns.
I’ll advance with my knives
and when the smoke settles,
I’d have taken their lives.

I react like a military contingency
to a nuclear catastrophe.
I’m trained to take lead.
My mind is tempered in white heat.
My tongue’s a sword and mouth’s the sheath;
Call me for back-up like cops elite.
But my Special Weapons And Tactics
are use of metaphors that pack kicks
in oral linguistics.
I take words that are static
and make them dynamic
blades while combative.

Simply put, my words are sharp
and cut when they’re vexed.
They’ll leave a body bloodied
like periods on Playtex.
They get wrecked, then slash necks
But only when upset.
So I’m one you don’t test.
My style’s not that complex.
I Keep It Simple Stupid.
There’s my KISS of death.




BRAIN SURGERY/BELLY OF THE BEAST

I’m the kind of guy who’d meet you in hell and ask:
“Is it hot enough for ya?”
Not that I’m a badass, just a smartass
who takes psychological warfare to physical agony.
You don’t wanna battle me…
My specialty: Psychotic Rhyme Surgery.
So, you better believe I’m the last person you want to see.
Coming to me is like asking a neurologist for a lobotomy.
I’m one of the best in this game
and with one cut from me,
your way of thinking will change.
So here’s your chance to think twice
before I pull out a knife
and change your perception for life.
The lights will be on with no one at home…

Please…

Just…

Leave me alone or I’ll crack your whole dome
and serve your head on a platter with tacos.
My cook books are from Hannibal and psychos.
I fry pieces of brains with Tic-Tacs and Mentos
to freshen wack wit and combat halitosis
‘cause stank minds gives me bad rhymes to flow with.
This is the wickedest business but I made a good living
from eating competition with their phatty nutrition
and I kept on eating ‘til I was high off the hog.
This had me pushing out long smelly logs
of all the dead poets who made my feeding so well.
If purgatory’s my belly, they get flushed down in hell…





THE SICK LYRICIST

Forget asking for a lobotomy from a neurologist.
A pen in my hand is like a scalpel to a proctologist
and it’s open season on assholes and antagonists
who should see me like fat hoes with syphilis.
Get it?  You really shouldn’t fuck with this.

In the past, I warned foes to “Leave me alone.”
Now I got to cut holes in heads and feed ‘em a bone.
I’m known to screw minds like a two dollar whore,
then jerk off for retinas to semen cumming in hordes.

I spit like a tube of Ben Gay squeezed too little much—
oozing lyrics as liniment that gives heat at the touch.
Take it in deep though, my style is good stuff
then relax to get stroked til you had more than enough;
but if you try to bite me, I will bang you real rough
using poetry as a penis busting nuts in your guts.
I’m only nasty when need be so back the fuck up.

Better yet, go home and eat your Wheaties
you waste of one night stand
then call me when your balls drop
and you sound like a man.





I'M WARNING YOU

To the untrained eye, my knives may look petty;
but under closer scrutiny, they’ve seen the blood of many
and since I’m surgical I’ll be precise when I come at you.
Therefore, my knives are perfect weapons in this duel with you.
Taking the Hippocratic Oath as a soldier is little chaotic
like training to kill while promising life makes me psychotic.

*  *  *

I’m not one to test son so show some respect.
Talks of busting caps can get you cut in the neck,
pounded by fists or a bloody ass nose.
and you’d swear you were in Ga. if I start throwing some bows.
Get it clear; there’s vets in here…
Check out the store owner; he’s eyeballing you.
Or that cat to your left who keeps on warning you.
Both of them dudes will put some light in you.
I wouldn’t even need to be fighting you.
But I’ll be slaying you with blades if you want me to
and there be no strays when I’m done with you.
I don’t turn tail and run ‘round here; I tactically advance,
knocking out assholes ‘fore they draw from their pants.
Still, you’d figure pulling a trigger means I gonna shoot to kill
considering my training with weapons was how I got the GI Bill.





SUDDEN DEATH

After being burned,
you should have learned to retract your hand
but here you go calling out this grown ass man.
Now, I guess I got to be the can of worms that’ll kill you, cat
‘cause your curiosity got me whipping out my battle axe.
My word attacks clear cataracts caused by most rapper speech.
It’s constantly popping and toppling
the liars I meet on the street
while your whole head weebles
and wobbles left and right when you speak
‘cause you talk from the side of your neck
plus your style is weak.
Now you want to challenge me
using this bodega as a battleground.
I’ll rock a mic on any stage in any state in any part of town.
I’ve taken manhoods, scarred childhood,
and revoked many ghetto cards
while saying “Ayyo” on your radio
makes you look like a silly ass retard.
That’s about as hard as I would be
for Magic Johnson’s wife.
Still, I wouldn’t touch that chick
with your dick ‘cause I respect all life.

* * *

So you really wanna fuck with me? 
I’m the vet with integrity and I go on and on and on… 
Just ask your mom about my longevity.
Better yet, since you're living in this country,
you should man up and join the war.
Apparently with your mentality,
there's nothing here worth living for.
Now if you don't sign up, then back up and drop your guns.
Once again, I won't need live ammo to handle you son.
I have enough to answer for while doing what I do just to live.
So when I pass, I don't need to answer for the life of a kid.