Reincarnature

XFactor by Professor A.L.I.

 

VERSE 1:

Byproduct of day of Ashura and the apocalypse /Language dripping off aerosol cans or hieroglyphs /Liminal status; an archaeopteryx/Myopic, lift sarcophagus, corpses cough and spit /The phlegm of leprosy, within a coffin its/Not Hip-Hop’s death; but the opposite/Like scholarship, beyond de Lyon’s hype/Decipher, like the cypher is infinite life /Truth cloaked like death; by intricate lies/And this is why: the grim reaper’s despised/Despite separating soul, from a capsule /Walking in the valley, amidst his shadow/Mystics battle, ominous, omen is an arrow /Forged by a pharaoh, given to a herald /To lacerate throat; separate air hole /Like cancer that grows in bone marrow /Hope is severed, like Nebuchadnezzar /This is madness,  a soul lives forever/So Hip-Hops essence, remains expressive/Within new shells, manifested lessons/The lectures of professors, grassroots message/Weapons to make oppressed kids, axe questions/Take confessions, and burn into wax /Hip-Hop’s global & lives in independent rap

VERSE 2:

Lyrics drip from my lips; witness my lexicon/If Kal-el is Moses, and Krypton is Babylon/Then Ali is Aaron, wielding a cattle prong/Gilded Taurus on Tabernacle; scattered bronze/While chorus of pterodactyls, claim Hip Hop is gone/Only living on EBay auctions; and Amazon/Lets return to the Bay, like the wrath of Khan/Or mist from Hiroshima, kissed by atom bombs/And fish of Fukushima, strangled like anacondas/A tiger is just a black panther in camouflage/Reincarnated; in this shell of a vagabond/And I’m not the only one, just ask Ras Ceylon/Or Blitz, Young Skitz, Left or Locksmith/Independent artists, are their main targets,/’Cuz they spark ish, Reincarnate lost spit/Not hits, in basements, embrace the darkness/Blood stained carpets, corpses lay in dying rooms /The sickness enraptures physical, blinding fools /Doctors are summoned, treat illness with medicines/The dying whisper, last will and testament/A lost sentiment, with construction of hospitals/Transitioned the room for dying to the living room/This truth is a metaphor, for the record industry/If Hip-Hop is truly dead, what are they feeding you and me?

 

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