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the stoned clairvoyant of hip hop - beans lyrics

underground like hoffa –
subjugate like baron karza (kartha) –
you don’t want smoke no roach, you rap hoax
faux kafka –
celebrate made a holiday out ya worst horror –
unparalleled peril pen whip up an anguish worth sum dollars –
rappers cut themselves on the knife i was
holding –
determined to sharpen letters
determined to k!ll better –
you dared to dream to succeed where god’s
failed –
made a mockery –
a novelty even the fake bеing fake is
authentic –
cops pop hoods to block dash cams –
5 exclamation points !!!!! for еmphasis
salts the clouds – no second sight incoherent
from experience inert a wreckage
cigarette filters and oceans congested
mentally breached under the siege
bereaved a pain wave a point of entry pen
w/a slasher films precision – a sh*llfish toxin
mixed w/ water frozen into the form of a dart
dissolved in the blood stream stopped your heart
your kingdom is a hole in the ground –
this is not sleep – sleep is death’s
8 hr. volunteer dress rehearsal –
death is a sleeping contest that lasts forever
that sooner affects you than me –
you a wash – a bidet
this is debris – in disarray –
a perfumed scent of sweat rot –
and decay foes in an artisan bowl resemble
soup shaped as a urinal during decomp –
a new thought for an object a readymade
a urinal bowl signed r. mutt by duchamp –
the stoned clairvoyant of hip hop –
the all* star matta wilfredo lam of rap
that i am –
in summer camp, i learned i like ants –
i was that kid alone on the playground w/ the bag of lay’s
potato chips alone on the swings by himself
that let an ant crawl onto a potato chip then
ate it – then i l!cked the salt from my lips –
that’s some stupid embarrassing dumb kid sh*t –
the first time i tried *n*l @ 18, it was an accident
she bled a little – not enough lube but spit –
and all i could fit*
was the tip –
it’s not v*g*n*l so no natural lubricant –
and you can’t aim your d*ck straight
you have to take the tip and enter down and then left – it was awesome –
i liked it – but my reviews were mixed –
my d*ck was squeezed into a confined sp*ce
that it barely fit, but it felt dry, warm
yet pleasant – magnificent – now i’m
obsessed w/ that sh*t – when i pulled out –
the tip of my d*ck was covered in a mound of sh*t
that smeared onto the sheets –
the aroma was wretched – lingered and reeked –
that scent carried over beats –
why is ink adverse to sleep?
usually, i can’t sleep – sleep is death’s
8 hr. dress rehearsal – btwn 3 and 5am –
the pen is an unworthy friend –
this fickled thing –
a pen made sure that sleep is denied me –
sleep is death’s 8 hr. dress rehearsal
i watched a spanish soap opera on an ipad
propped on top of my girlfriend’s head
and she dreamt in spanish –
my girlfriend asked me
“if i write a rhyme on your head, would
it be my rhyme?” i replied
“stay still, as i’m writing the next line”
an empty page aches to greet me –
haunting me in the after times in
better days –
i use to sleep instead of using ink where
i’m awake and now my eyes are strained –
evasive in rest even in darkness –
i answer to the ink i serve –
it yearns to end the triumph of a blank
page as ink’s servant, i am suffering –
why is ink so adverse to sleep? –
why is ink so adverse to sleep? –
it’s 5:30 in the morning so there’s
no sunlight –
getting up to go to work, my girl is holding
her phone over the page as i write –
fresh like a baby eating its own p**p
out the pamper –
look @ you innocently –
smiling, rubbing its tummy, smeared
feces all over its mouth * smacking its lips
saying, “yeah, i’m the sh*t!”
“yeah, i’m the sh*t!”

- beans lyrics

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