Ima be like dave and give this verse for a freebie/ but still…expose jay ARE’s repertoire into what jay IS lyrically….

Farm animal squabble dannimal gestures squared decimal mental stencils/ comparable to slobbered genitals- with a trail of flem, finger fucked wishy washy tempted temps transmitting diseases and then, form fitted corsets for the stifle, squeeze triggers on rivals… which emcee is prodigious? Monogamous on creativity and topic logic polygamy? Get the point across (smile)… this is the basic instruction, huffin and puffin to blow down (style)… pound for pound we throw down somthin’ -in the cipher “everybody wanna be an emcee” .. be E-Z there weider! My spasm chasm blows out the bathroom digestin’ the martyr…everyone knows when I’m “bussin” its comin in Charters/ “too tarter” too absorb ideas or impressions… your “sports” retort was your last resort… it implies questions to the limited character your possessin’, ofcourse/ check the query of mental effort, its too short to compute on the paystub of “smug” dispute/ salute- the style versatile cuz used muse hunches and “hoots”/ hollarin’ with etch-r-sketch monotoned “ja-rules” walkin’ in moonwalkin boots/ rip you up by the roots- fuggin wit my estrogen-testosterone microphone rippin’ linguistics/ my style was developed by years of dedication and diligence- remember sittin’ up nights with my boys writin’ lyrics to change worldly mediocre sentiments/ mad critiques to feed the leagues of bullshit degenerateness/ I’m the only one to break the dam on my dammed foundation, then apply my own sutures/ cuz online anyone can become an emcee, writer, or “producer”…





-Stephani
peep www.3kingsmusic.com and post ur poems on the forums! Support independent, positive hiphop!

I'm a H.E.R.B.
Holotyped Existance
Rhetoric Bound

The new me is like: A woman killed in ruffles; falling to the ground with her hair spread out; her wrist secreting ambiant neon blood
Juggling the moon and stars in palms; with the flecks in the eyes turning globes confetti like yearns of non-existant love...
Running in barefoot brooks; with the moon arching its reflection up the aching backs where he holds onto my hips and sways me
my dreams are:
Renewing again amoungst the mating mossrocks stay satiated coining a pith in a breathy palms; so so sappy drenching dreary destiny to bloody toned walls
my heart calls: callused and waving kites colors hues meshing, please feel me- I'm so-so soft- scratching like cat napes, round and female with sun-dresses blowing passion.. kiss the wind swiveling tears on cheeks, the light beams behind my curls, I pose and bleeeeeeed with pain on my sleeve...
engulf: anger,sadness, happiness changing to squared rolling wheels, penetrate the projections of emotional mattresses... I feel open.. constantly.. dream of my transparent body unzipping my skin and stepping out of me.. and I run to cotton-candy padded fields and glow with bliss, and he will wait with his arms open- like that of jesus and view me- patiently...cuz he knows I tripped on my way there and I'm all bruised... ~ me