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Quisha
Son of the soul
Gepost door Quisha op donderdag 07-02-2008 om 16:01:59
Self destructively, unbelievably tight
Writing at day turning in a wolf at night
Searching for the right stage to crawl on
The right spot to trip, faint ‘n to fall on
Ones I started there’s no one who can hold me back
Cause the rage and the energy push me to the max
Got no self-respect the only thing I’ve got is rap
Tap Tap, the sticks on the drum kit burn me lose
From the stress and the flashes of my sick youth
no more damnation nor is there frustration
Rhythm is ticking on the 96, glass breaking by the bricks
Fat ladies feeling sick as there body moves on
Fitness of the modern age time to get ya groove on
Save the day by living on the music twice
Throw the dice till you see the seven eyes
A lucky life to live as lucky as my tribe
Its Racially mixed following a new way
Off the record, away from the Shepard’s herd
Wolves below the wool hunting for the absurd
Pandemonium’s the tool to free the sick minded
coming closer to the soul curing the rich blinded
Music taking control as I leave you all reminded

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"Don't mind your competitiors, just do what you wanna do and what feels good!"
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