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365 Group 9

I'm a Straight up G

Comedy "Rap" Lyrics

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Spit hot bars
Ride nice cars
Make up for the fact I’m not smart
Buy bitches with money and fame
Because if I pretended I had game
The laughs would be too insane
They’d haunt me until the day I sprayed my toy UZI rounds through my skull into my brain
Bounced around and scrambled shame
Left nothing but a ring...

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Kate's Hobby

Kate lays in the corner, syringe dug deep into the purple bruise she calls her vein. The vacant body is alive but its host is elsewhere. Her gaze travels through the walls off into infinity. Indistinguishable from the dead. She might as well be a zombie.

It wears and clarity arrives. Memories of the accident in which they all died. She once had a husband and children, but that’s in the past.

The syringe makes it all a lie. Nothing exists and neither does she.

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Meditation: The Minimalistic Guide

A simple and minimalistic guide to understanding and performing meditation.

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Meditation is not sitting with your eyes closed and legs crossed to achieve some LSD state of mind.
That is what LSD is for.


The Purpose
The goal of meditation is to silence the inside voice and allow a natural external focus state to persist. By distracting one’s inner monologue with simple, basic and meaningless tasks it becomes easier to ignore. This focus state is widely known as Flow State. Don’t be fooled, Meditation and Flow State are one and the same. They both focus the user on the moment at hand and do so by shelving the inner monologue.

Useful Perspective to Understanding Meditation
Meditation is reclaiming control and focus from the inner monologue.
The inner monologue and the thinker are two different entities.
You should willingly …

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Thought Thief


Stuck in a circle with a bunch of squares
You’re a box
Questionin’ what I’m doin’ here
When what I want to do is be over there
Where you’re not
Blendin’ in and standin’ still
Avoidin’ corners to not get stabbed or scratched on the edge
Dodgin’ scabs and death
Givin’ in to the fun and dumb
But I can’t help myself
I’m obsessed with the thoughts in my head
And the thoughts not yet
Where they might be
And what I...

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Professional Cycling

Such full language for hollow heads
Nothing is written
Thus, nothing is read
Dry clean brushes and beautiful white canvases
Perfect soapstone blocks smooth and frictionless
Decorative fitness equipment
Novelty healthy eating guides
And the cartoon in the mirror is depressing
With a capitol question mark
As if it’s not known why

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The Dying Art of "Discussion"

 

 

How can it be possible for a person to be so willing to argue their perspective and impose their reasoning on others but be completely unreceptive to Feedback and counter information?

If you’ve never gathered information because you listen to no one while waiting your turn to speak, what are you speaking? There has been no information collected. At that point we can assume your perspective isn’t yours but something you read from a book, magazine or the internet.

Which part of an opinion you read and repeated is yours? Which part did you originate? Or do you sit around repeating other people’s views on things?

What original input do you have? And if none, why not listen to someone else’s to add to your informational bank?

You don’t have to believe the thing to understand why someone else does.

Isn’t knowing why the villain believes they are the hero the only way to defeat the villain? Know your enemy and know thyself, but there is no self and the villain is ignored so no information processing takes place ever… There is just repeating and reciting. Is that a good basis for an argument?

I don’t know, I rely on reason. I find it strange someone would argue something they’ve given no thought to. It’s strange. And why their emotions on it are more of a solid fact from their eyes than the objective logic behind it is weird and probably wrong.

I live in a strange world.

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Inspire Me

Inspire me
I need a muse
Refuse to give in and lose
And if I need to use the methods I’ve improved
Then I’ll do what I must do
But if a vision of pure perfection should infect my intentions
I wouldn’t be apprehensive
I’d hear its tunes and soon work that’s true would ensue
Soul within the words would show, too

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Detached Eye

I move through the groves letting the cosmos tell me what to do
Which is to sooth the noobs with crude true statements due
Warm blood thick like oil boils spoiling the noise in the air
Leaving waves, pure, lingering where reality used to be
Perspective is all about incentive and reason for introspection
Objective is the mind of he who lessens his role in the grand design
Listens to the echoes and signs nature leaves behind as features we’re often blind to
‘Cause some guy pointed at a thing and we began to argue

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Red Skies

Addition to the Fallen Series taking place in the Far Future of the Series.

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Hordes, like bats fresh out of a cave, of winged demons fly free and powerful flooding the blood soaked sky.

On land black sand rubs against the scaly belly of a garden snake slithering on an important quest. His determined pace is consistent, never breaking, never stopping, never considering any factor other than the quest.

For miles the sand is thick and nearly dry if not for the rain.

Creatures made of the darkest shadow, the doomed, lost souls and demons, claw their way out from the void....

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MeToo Roofie Bar

I pray because I love lying to God and as humans we all love free things. On the off chance something happens, I’ll have already been in line for the profit.

Somehow this relates to when I was hanging out at a #MeToo roofie bar the other night and met this chick who’s date had been too boring and thus she joined the movement. Spent the night together. She already forgot who I am.

I told her she needs God in her life when I crossed paths with her in the Supermarket. “You’re a sinner, bitch!”

“So are you!” She says.

“Only God judges me, bitch!” I respond.

Later a pray God saves her because she is broken, but I’m fine so I just ask for a new car and weed money.

Sunday church, Sexy nuns save my soul. One in the confessional and amen.  

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The Article

...own hands
Craft, build the blueprints
Brand, leave his imprint
Band together two cents
Speak whether it fits
Dent critic inputs

Spitting fishing hooks
Hitting the shook unwilling crooks
Silly Billy words are taken literally
Hurts the butts of many herds
Heard the words played in reverse

No stutter
The words slick like butter
Utter the terms I stand under
The curbs are straight, brother
No turns, no lights
The window shutters shut tight
Exit sign isn’t lit...

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Talk More Shit Than A Bathroom

...their heads no one else knows
Where the only threat is the host and their most intimate regrets that they wish to hide yet can’t seem but expose when they feel at home in their minds hard at work
I’m somewhere there in that place where it’s difficult to care or give a shit what the people out here think
It’s clear I’m a strange guy, obsessed with death
Wear black hats with cat faces and a leather jackets with the words “come at me” on the back
Weird, a little morally grey I seem to be okay with almost anything
But who knows what I want you to think if not me, the prick you can figure out?
Stick around, you’ll see
I want you to wonder who I am and come up with no answers and get sick and spaz
For I stand without one
It’s what I want
To be a question mark harder to pick apart and asses the individual parts and imitate than it is to start from scratch
Have them scratching their heads wondering “Who the fuck is this kid killing it like a villain spitting shit he don’t seem to be regretting? Don’t write like no rapper I’ve heard, but his lines are so dope that I’m high off his words.”
Bitch, I don’t rap, not yet, I’m too good for that, but when...

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Family of Four

Half way to the bronze doorknob, letter in hand, Hue freezes up paranoid.

“But… What if…?” he doesn’t finish.

Clarisse just happens to open the door a second shy of Hue talking himself out of this.

His eyes are locked on hers. He’s sweating cannon balls. Hue’s horrified, mortified standing there reaching out with a letter he almost managed to never delivering.

Eyes wide. He looks like an idiot and he knows it, but he can’t fix his face or his body and remains frozen in place.

Finally she speaks. “Is… Is that for me?” she asks.

He doesn’t speak, instead, Hue reaches out further with the letter and Clarisse snatches it. The envelope stood no chance against her insatiable need-to-know.

“EEEK!” Clarisse claps and screams. Tightly wrapping her arms around Hue she whispers, “Yes… I’ll marry you!”

And Hue feels his veins become raceways for a relaxing adrenaline rush-hour of endorphins.

Flash forward ten years and they’re still together.  Got a boy of six and a girl of five and moved up North.

That’s the greatest tragedy that’s ever occurred in this little town.

Who thinks something like this would happen in such a quiet safe place?

Guy marries his sister and kidnaps two children before disappearing up North, never to be seen again. That’s pretty fucked up.

They stopped looking on the second day but the promos ran for months.

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The Box

Failure to fit in the box
Humiliated and mocked
Rain tears everything apart
Personal black cloud
They hide inside and throw away the key
They dissolve and die because of me
Puddle doubled in size
Party inside
They fade
No goodbyes

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