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letra de jim kelly - roqy tyraid

{roqy tyraid]

hey!

i raise the standard; every phrase captured on page, my brain, an app, or a paper napkin/
manipulating language to cadence patters/
tamed the dragon, the bane of rappers/
back in the day of plagues, they’d claim it’s magic.. and i’m hanged or burned at the stake, thereafter/
the ‘heinous act’, is i’m inanely savage/
greatness personified, it’s innate as deoxyribonucleic acid/
i’m a hostile, vile, unstable b-st-rd/
take evasive acts, or be humiliatingly ate in voracious fashions/
more highlights and quotes than the bible, when christ has spoken/
you’re a printer on field of gr-ss, and i’m michael bolton/
you might need ibuprofen/
ice for bumps and contusions for tryin’ to “jump to conclusions”, hope you die from m-ffler fumes/
awkward f-ckin’ dude, i lost a couple screws/
uncouth; as far as rhymin’, been the truth since pogs and dunkeroos/
i’m a g*nius, no need to explain it/
you’d think my cranium is big as untreated fetuses conceived near depleted uranium/
i abhor american foreign policy/
war over oil and global commodities/
economic control, our army step on your soil with no apologies/
potus owned by saxe-coburg-gotha dynasties, bi-partisanship is minor league/
some wanna change the world, some wanna see it burn/
i’m rem-ing in a dream deferred/
people of color shown no regard/
my pigmentation is a coat of arms, with innovative history/
disseminating information if you’re listening/
dropping jewels like burglars with arthritic conditions, who suffer from muscular dystrophy/
bigoted systems omit our ill-strious victories/
and things we contribute from present to stuff of antiquity/
we all kings, but on a beat i’m be-yond reach/
lean on knees or pe-ons get leon spinks’d/
don’t leave ya’ll seats/
a response will leave ya’ll in triage, with e.rs, priests in seance like egon — peace/
i ain’t wore a pair of jordans since the last administration/
can’t afford to misappropriate my cash/
on gear exploitative and blacker pigmentation/
manufactured by some four year old held captive in a bas-m-nt/
far as rap, seems the moral’s “if it lacks sophistication/
stands a chance of getting traction, maybe landing in rotation”/
it’s a sacrilege, deplorable, and stands to demonstrate/
you couldn’t crack if you enrolled in chiropractic visitations/
his fashion sense is stolen and his accent has been changed/
[to match the] patters and the voice [of other] rappers that are famous/
[image] crafted in his mold [and even] adlibs are the same/
this [business] practice is the norm [in this] branch of entertainment/

(gasp)

uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhaaahhhhhhhhhh-uh
ugh!

you’ll never be discovered/
with your glorificed coveres of yeezy and glover, you’re cheatin’, ‘s why you’re deep i nthe cupboard/
in every sense of the word/
you’re in the club tweeting “it’s a movie!” and i agree, the t-tle?! “revenge of the herb!”/
fake grunge phase, meaningless tattoos, gauges/
plaid shirts ’round waists — but don’t know who alice in chains is?!/
or how rage’s “bulls on parade” went?!/
if all you know are the names of grohl and cobain, you vultures are shameless/
none of you clowns is different/
you just found an image to counterbalance your talent’s limits, i descended from the outer fringes/
archaeologist diggers found my crib on the grounds of kemet/
surrounded by heiroglyphics which depicted my head ‘n a crown in an image — i’m finished/

- roqy tyraid

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