God love 'em.
Yes. Any beast that can just bite my head off, a gun would be preferable. Definitely no silencers he needs to know hes being shot at, because even with regular caliber bullets it might take a full clip to even scare him. I don’t know this from experience, but Iv heard stories.
I’m talking bout hunting a Grizzly.
If it takes more than one shot, that too is disrespectful I feel.
Sure but who is hunting who can change quickly with a grizzly. Ive heard more than once that they’re rather hard to shoot down.
It might very well take more than one shot even to kill a human. Some people, as in Fausts anecdote, take several shots to even kill an already fatally wounded deer.
much thanks.
Im feeling bad now whenever I don’t make music.
I would only hunt a Grizzly if I felt confident in my ability to take it out with one shot.
Two is forgivable.
What I’m not doing is planning for if the roles get reversed. This is between me and the Grizzly.
Weirdly I don’t think I would hunt any other bear. Like I couldn’t see myself shooting down a black bear.
Wonderful bastards.
Agreed.
What does bear-meat taste like anyway? Ive not heard much about that.
Tough.
What would happen if you eat a bears heart
Mercury in Cancer fucking sucks.
She called me Black Philip
I understand the plan, but I’m just not with it
Was born in-clan, yes, this is used against me by the imbicilic
Unwilling to cut the umbillical chord with their own weakness
And as they see me unfold they feel it confirms their suspicion
That I can’t be stronger, only success of some kind proves might in their kite mind
Indignity I’m not spared or a million frowns unkind
Paranoia in hell and true poverty mankind’s
“Even if he’s right that’s certainly undesireable”
Like history repeating is the standard quo
Quoth the Raven: who the fuck knows? They never listen
No matter how far I go I never find
Because it is not a given, evolution is dead blind
Like Riddick
True motivation knows no plan
For success or failure
And that’s what freedom is, G
To be judged by nature’s terms and earn the right to die by one’s own
She called me Black Philip
And that’s all the succes I’ll ever need to know
Cavemen dwelling in my belly
Fly under the radar like Nelly in retrospect
Always circumspect
Wear a suit
Don’t need a kevlar vest
Protected by the magic of 10000 princesses
Take a piss in the mirror and it reach witches
Categorically overriding your main switches
Overtaking your mecha so I can make riches
While humbley my abode evokes images of poverty striken children
I only see substratum
Only weild big hammers
Quality driven bad karma motherfucker
Arch-baron of the underworld and all related ruckus
I don’t know how this happened. It’s not what I would like the case to be.
But For Love Of The Game is my favourite movie.
I tried rapping it to the Kanye West and notice its more like mine than before.
More written on the rhythm than the punch
[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8YM0FW6Tx2I[/youtube]
Except the last part which is back to the old school.
I like the development as long as you keep leaning to roots. Fucking untraceable roots for a European. We aint never heard that shit bro, it makes it clear how America, I mean the US, is just a curtain the South America which contains an even freeer feeling. Experience on the soul-dusty street.
Coyotes brushing past in the deep
keep a lazy eye on the long lasting sleep
7 20
rap made out of plastic
dog pound or lassie whatever
ronald reagan on the cover
times magazine man of the year
ufos hover
above it all, Roswell, take an aderal
just to pop pills in the desert
its the new fad back to the present
next
blue blup blup
this beat they definitely don’t play in the club
come on Ye hurry up
next beat this is crap-py
can’t smell the panties
can’t taste the white powder
gotta be a lot louder
ought to have ooze stuck in the grooves
this is no juice come on dude
and it lasts a while now, keeps going on
and on like the blues of a person with just one mood
like the rust settles on the edge of the hood
oh okay
next
Rob a bank or steal a cigarette
its all the same because you gotta dig a hole before you steal a mineret
its in the book of sayings
so don’t be dwelling
on nay sayers and bad prayers
so stray from the grave and utter
NEEEXT
shit when you get stuck in a bad rap. Like
[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3j0V05sVHFU[/youtube]
It just happens for lack of skirt. Ill be honest. Im out here in the boonies with no woman in sight.
When I was in LA that was one of the finest things, the pervasion of the air by the Spanish.
the colour of the whole breathing experience there is that mixed bled. Blessed mix.
Real Anglo Spanish rap has yet to be invented.
Anyway. Yet to be invented.
Did I say that?
Yet to be invented.
Cypress Hill was cool and all but I didn’t go to see them when I had the chance.
Its all still been a reflection of this idea
[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-6iVvepxR-M[/youtube]
Because it hasn’t been about the real threat, which is the superior intellect. Or the superior pride of the intellect, at least - the deep groove of it. It is still Rome in that sense, the superstition before the word. The severity is carried more than the use. Tha is wy the poetry remains and the function is contained, and inherited unseen, until someone steps forward and utters an ancient word.
Or even spookier, a modern word in an ancient form.
This is She the wet pussy of the world, what the word must become.
Hah. Them Kanye beats make you forget about a point and just want to rapwander along the breeze.
Dangerous persuasion these days.
I never fucking liked Cypress Hill. I think iss shit.
All style, no matter. So no style.
“Look at me.”
Saying I wanted to sound like them was the most constructive criticism I ever done got.
First Cypress Hill song I ever heard. Fuck. Painful.
[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NFE7gTvalHw[/youtube]