Tha FreakStylaz Post Album | Primal~the Rap Achilles~

T HA F REAKSTYLAZ P OST A LBUM

| Primal~the Rap Achilles~ |

| 5. The Judgement Is Near :: The Tetragrammaton |

a pictures a thousand words, so i don't speak i stand

mouth closed, the eyes tell the truth, i reach a man

by just lookin at him steady i release my plan

excrete demands, and snatch souls tryna flee my scan

see i can, on the block, flinch at em, they pass out

shake my head in disgust, they pull and blow they backs out

the facts out, they tried to hide, but can't escape the gaze

it tell my record book angel to just scrape the page

of pass deeds of bad things of layin corpses wit clips

all on the chicks, sex addicts, layin whores wit some dick

bitin rhymes, sellin out, for the fortune they spit

like lil kids at parties, they go for portions of chips

and now Czar is nauseous and pissed.....!

so i stand at em, and only breathe sick what moses would spit

the facts and the laws, packed up wit God, get your rosary quick

before you soul dies the second death, fold up and drift

to the place of no return, no golden urn, explore the abyss

you knowin me kid

i'm poisonous wid

sicker flows and a master first sentence, see i craft the wisdom

i read my scriptures, quelled your senses, when i spat the isms

on track your dense and you should contemplate bathin your tongue

name me just once, when you fathers took time to play wit your son

and you women you should be closed up and prayin wit nuns

my mind been exercised, and wrecked the vibes, since days of the huns

wit atilla, not for the skrilla, but the better of man

i walked the grass, the hot coals, in the nethers and lands

of the kings wit dreams, to swing blades and damage a clan

to take slaves, exchange knaves sex em, then slam em sand

damnit i can, not stand the abuse and the torture of creatures

for mass production, fashion bustlin, we're just sportin the fleeces

not replenishin the flock, and we're tortured wit heat and

the ozone's, rippin wit holes, now we're forced to retreat this

great earth laid out by god, you the the paradise lost

now we gotta pray to see again his face, but paradise costs

and you know that i speak the truth

and in truth shall i speak uncouth

and never hold back, my flow, raps, to conform to normality

i'm unique, and will always speak heat, while my forms in totality

adorned wit vitality, and help those absorb the morality

cuz in the scheme of God, you being are small, little thorns of mortality

and flesh life's a formality and the judgement is soon

or you can be saved, or have your name graved, plundered in doom

Young's not a goon, nor you, we just off track wit the life

cuz we been raised round ratchets and beast that been packin for life

or suburbs wit crackas in peace wit little passion for life

except ice, and hatred's plite, has niggas clappin in spite

that's we're all one human race, but cris poppin and butt fuckin

gay's smuttin, fats at Lay's functions, lip poppin and gun buckin

i planned to offend, the man on the gin, drips rockin in tongue function

and he run stumblin, when the cops knock at his door clutchin

come cuzzin, we live for stupidity for paper and check liquidity

but is a life of no passion really worth livin B

i think not but i'm apt to just sleep

spit facts on a beat, rip tracks, till the rapture bring peace

the world turns to one tune every different noon

your soul's locked one day he will lift or doom

For the Tetragrammaton