Wobbly Politics


Dreaming of that lyrical masterpiece depicting murder scenes committed by clinical cases feeling the system has been failing. Serial killing boxes doing whatever the masked fox says. A nutritious part of this war, I mean breakfast.

The worst is yet to come, he’s not yet screaming, it’s still a hum. He’s not dumb, he’s running the show the way he always planned to run. He’s making a fool and running his mouth because you think he’s cool and you pass it around validating that he’s still the spot light, quite bright if the whole world’s eyes are plopped right on top of him day or night. There’s not a fight, there’s no resistance, and every one eats out of his palm. It’s pathetic and we regret it but we won’t let it show, we’re insistent is doesn’t exist and believe no one knows he deceives us

But the madness is ensuing and the things he’s been doing have been pulling sides tight right under his nose and as the story goes that the little people rise despite their small size ‘cause numbers stack quite high and they want him to go so as their numbers grow towers will wobble topple right on top his bank hills killing his inbred bills before we find out he set sail long ago

Before the nukes drop, he’s not beat, that’s too hot, this dude left a bot in his seat, it’s got a huge cock as you see. He’s under the impression this robotic erection is the same as staring at a reflection. Not to mention the round butt cheeks and lipstick under a feather hat or hair piece albino scared cat.

And what Eminem said with his face red tastes right but instead you little fags jumped off his side ‘cause he didn’t want to rap about nonsense, right? Fuck that noise, go play with your toys kids, you don’t know what you’re doin’. Got ‘Em’s head in a bag though ‘cause I need a crack rap to attack them and although I’ve got that I don’t have it like he has it and that’s that.

Umm… My lyrics are monstrous, hazardous but not contagious. I go through phases where tactically lyrical incisions work like premonitions. They force my visions to rise capsize everyone’s boat because they don’t know how I keep goin’ when I go. And as they sink and think of where the things they missed can be they’ll see the hair due from that old dude on twitter and be pissed it’s what holds them back, whether white or black, Hispanic, sober or on crack. That’s a fact.