Thursday, August 19, 2010

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

What do you see?

How is your depression related to the above?
The new New York City.
Real representation retaliation regards roaring over ramjets,
I'd stick my self to prove a point to these toy pets.
Wanna act like that your strip, you can't control a playstation, let alone a patch, we bare pimp, air blimp, sipping on something pink, purple, end up walking round the hood like Urkel.
You pay the price for the perks through personality perverts pissing on your stupidly stunning sensuality.
Can you imagine a beautiful day?
I can't. I got a problem with the smell of burning oil and urban decay, fuck Louie V, rather rep Perth City, nothing left to believe, the degrees earnt point to perfection and precise splices of spicy chicken. Deep fried like a crackhead on a bender, who got the juice, who needs the boost? This shit doesn't sell itself. You boring fucks need something to idolize. Something to autocorrect. Something to hate, something to believe in, an idealogly seperate from the seven sins or the Muslims. Selling dreams under the bridge near Meltham station, when I ride Transperth I make sure I tag on.
Spooky motherfuckers hide a ringtone in your beat, flip the flunkie to a junkie to get milked like a cow now, I smear blood above your eyebrow. If this is this, and this is the place, the bitch, I smeared her face with piss. So now I'm gonna spit in it.
Demeaning feening, never cleaning and always on that greener mean without the median, middle of the food chain, lean toward carnivorous, catch me devouring the vegan. Fuck your big man laughter, we'll
see who's laughing when I'm sticking ya mothers daughter. Cos I taught ya. So shit ya pants and do what ya 'oughta.


Monday, August 9, 2010


Spiritually, I conquer verbally, ya hearda me, not ya average, love colcanon cos I love chewing threw bacon and cabbage, and noone cares about your words, you out of order, like the broken turnstile you dropped a handstyle on, CCTV recording ya.

You can't come up dissing us down, that's like Michael Jackson doing a set at my 13 year old daughters party dressed as a clown.
Ya see fake, I ain't coming through with no weakness, you see the crew and I roll by, you run and youse weepses. Close your eyes but open your peepers, I got a penknife pointed at your weakness. So sleepless, every night I lay awake in bed, dreaming dreams about something that someone else said, so I wink with all eyes open, always above with a select few chosen, none of your talk for now, I've chewed too many Endone's, it's giving me itchy bones, and all I wanna do us stay at home alone, with benzos and cones.