There was no way this endeaver was about to end on a sour note. Props to hdub for kicking it off and sustaining almost until the end. The entries were late, but I didn't think that was grounds for dismissal. After all, it IS the final round and I don't think it's unfair for the cats that made it this far to have a lil extra time to submit their entries.

So, I'm really excited to post up this last and final round.

First we have Shakeet Lohk Em whose lyrical skill can't be denied and whose steady incline and improvement during this competition has been remarkable to say the least. The track is hot y'all.

Then we have Prolif who has consistantly blessed us with ill drops and who still holds the KOTR title. This cat is smooth and gifted.

This is the finall y'all! Please show your appreciation for this event by posting your votes/comments.

Here we go.


Shakeet Lohk Em

Dreams/Windstaff

http://myspace.com/shakeet

Through the years we were treated so second class/
City school teachers playin parents while our seconds pass/
Hope the lessons last, past 2:45/
When we hit the street and put our life on the line/
Was good at English, excelled in arithmetic/
Bust since I can remember, yo I always had a rhythm tick/
And through my filaments/
Of pens I would write light so bright, I kinda lost sight of my mental gift/
Fights at home and pop lookin for a segue/
Through all my drama, I stopped writin for over a decade/
But last year I got back on my diesel/
With Picasso poetry and the world as my easel/
See, I'm 25, and I've been writin since 9/
When I first say my daddy sniffin on them white lines/
I come from real life, not no hood pantomime/
Where most would stand and analyze, I react cuz I'ma get mine/

Throughout all my crazy life, I never changed/
And though sorrow still remains, the kid Ralph still the same/
But not a day go by I don’t feel the pain/
So I’m real till the grave…/

Relax shawty, yeah you got your channel right/
Live and Direct broadcastin like your satellite/
I handle mics in the same way that I battle life/
No holds barred and stomp it out with an anvil’s might/
This mammal’s tight, ain’t got time for yall capybaras/
Copycat rats, style drier than the hot Sierra/
The Oxy bearer; fresh air to the rap asthmatics/
When it’s just some rancid acid/
Just bein candid, see lyrically the kid's King Kong/
The speech raw, the book of Revelation is my theme song/
I’m religious ‘bout my craft, an Art Monk with a wind staff/
Bringin hurricane change to give my congregation whiplash/
And lift lads like a Heineken six pack/
When they listen to my gospel wearin helmets with chinstraps/
I’m so sick, the grim reaper wear a mask around me/
Disinfect his robe, and get some R&R down in Maui/
It’s so contagious when I spit, It’s a pandemic/
Mass clinics, from my heat thats whiter than a grand wizard/
And centers on whoever think they competition/
That's like sayin, niggas pickin grapes from out of Martha's Vineyard/
Don't box me in, I 'on got no priors/
Shakeet more than "conscious", I'm straight from The Wire/
So for ANY cat who feel I ain't no ill emcee, come see me and I will eat thee/
Discharge you through my feces, flush you live on stage or even tucked behind your p.c./
So please see The Light and chill like Common did/
You ain’t built for rappin homey, keep your office gig/
I’m Cairo laden how I cycle the cadence, and lipo my pages/
Slicker than some bald tires hydroplanin/
It's Pharoh Sha from the Valley of Kings/
With a golden abacus to keep the talley of things/
And, sad to say, yall ain't addin up/
How you figure cuz you rhymin bars you think that's enough/
Yall got Sean Kemp conflicts, underachievin/
Guess ya moms never told you, you a blunder of semen/
Wonderin even, why'd you ever mutter a reason for slumberin season/
Slayin cats from breakadawn to thunderous evenins/
I'm so gifted, a victim of my rogue physics/
With no limit, I'm more than prolific/
I got your heart like when the sodium rise/
I'm the EPITOME of dope, call me Opium Prime/
Transformin what you wish for to what's happenin/
An emcee to split the Red Sea for Pan Africans/
I’m religious ‘bout my craft, an Art Monk with a wind staff.../



Prolif

Many Mics

http://www.soundclick.com/util/getplayer.m3u?id=3909310&q=hi

verse1:
now when it comes to a beat or a freestyle, i give what they need now/
emcees keep my number in speed dial/
i’m the one they calling for hits/
and it’s like i rinse my mouth out wit soap, i keep some bars on my lips/
Prolif, tha regular cat, spittin’ on hetero-tracks/
and they gon’ take me off top – i’m like a federal tax/
and there really aint no com-paring him/
number one in ya’ fantasy - lyrically, i’m Shawn Marion/
born as the cat that could come through/
to give ya’ll a break from the norm of what rap has succumbed to/
no glassy chain or a flashy Range/
just trying to drop a lil sounds for some cash and change/
and it prolly’ wont sell, but i impact whole nations/
i’ll just spread my tracks around and ask for do-nations/
and naw i aint on no station – I hate radio/
but never stop ripping mics on the daily yo/

hook:
how many mics do I rip on the daily?/
many money, say me say many, many, many/
how many beats Prolif make on the daily?
many money, say me say many, many, many/

verse2:
I’mma separate the tracks from the bars, the wack from the raw/
the ill from those who just rap on a board/
and I’ont spit unless I’m reaching a goal/
cuz even Shaq and Kobe squashed it; on some “beef is old”/
but fa’ real, I say to each-his own/
cuz i’m skippin all ears for now, dawg i’m trying to reach ya soul/
I’mma mix-tape phenomenon; Prolif Extravagant/
i carry on trying to make it out this Babaloyn/
and on the youth, some giving it up/
cuz they still think that Jordans and a gold chain is living it up/
and I aint gon’ lie, I thought the same myself/
til’ I realized that living check to check aint the same as wealth/
and ya’ll rappers aint the same as me – ya’ll spit nonsense/
the difference is tha flow, tha skill, and the content/
Cochise back just to i stay on ya conscience/
now let’s take it to the hook, like I’m fishing for comments/

bridge:
and you don’t stop and you don’t quit/
Prolif Cochise bringing yall dope hits/
and you don’t quit and you don’t stop/
i’mma keep bringing ya’ll that real hip-hop/

hook:

verse3:
now verse 3 gon start like the first two/
but i’m running out of time, gotta rhyme fo’ the end of my curfew/
plus i’m looking for a girl wit virtues/
somebody I can bring home to fam, but still take her to church too/
a down to earth chic wit diverse views/
plus she stylish in tha ill shades, heels, and tha skirts too/
she gon know she dealing wit somen’ that’s off here/
when she comes to the crib and she’ont see nuthin’ but equipment and software/
Pro the first to write bars on a Treo/
and then put on a show once a week, i’m like Cos and Theo/
country dudes say, “da’ buoy is re-al”/
rappers guard ya deals, i leave egos scarred as Seal/
so ya’ll really can’t ask fa’ mo’/
tha’ boy’s been slept on – it’s that box spring mattress flow/
from NC to internatio-nal/
i’mma keep rippin mics til my casket close/

hookX4: