Lava Lungs feat. Kashal​-​Tee

from by Sankofa

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Ready Set, here comes the Domineer
Ready to bomb your ears, embalm syllable stomp them going on for years
Appearing out of the cannon smoke, Pulitzer prize, no bullets to fly
Yet you understand that the man is dope
Hands explode trying to hold my pen and loose leaf
Better walk away, you’re Bruce Lee with two teeth
No chance to chew beef, pursue peace
Through these Fort Wayne avenues and streets I gather true speed
Breathing heavy like the burden of bringing it back is mine
No sermonizing I’m too busy doing to pose for shine
Either lead by example or shut your trap man
Leaving the wicked eclipsed, drop your baubles in an afghan
kicking the slickest of gifts, lickety split, this is it
Lindenwood’s got some great spots for you visit and bit
My city equipped with obsidian nights to run through
Just the same way I do with every wall I’ve come to

Digging ditches, since coffins had gotten bothersome
A head bopping son of supernova with lava lungs
Make you buy a Walkman, foam padded headphones
Walking through the dead of night, hoping to get home

This is the sound of all your dreams dying man
That pitiful wheezing noise coming straight out of your diaphragm
The frying pan into the fire of a flamethrower
Chase it down with a napalm shot, the game’s over
No blade toting my lethal weapon’s my mind
Flashing back to Ice-T before the Game had Survived
Rutger Hauer Gary Busey level rap craziness
Impact 80 of these cats in your wack radius
Activate the jet pack, blast off to the next stop
You’re best off leaving the planet, planning a test launch
A deft taunt tarantula tangent to navigate
I’ll raise the bar so high the blood in your veins will evaporate
And then I’ll fold you up and ship you with the Wack Stanleys
Except for the ones I set free because they have families
My siren’s call a simple hi hat with a cymbal crash
Cat of nine tails, 90 lashes slashing skin in half

Terrorist rapper? More like Meredith Baxter
Trade the Birney for Barney we’ve got your purple to party
You’re the Diane Keaton of Palestinian scarves
Posing like you’re hard and living within oblivion’s arc
I’m not buying it, man, your album or the image
The more time you spend away from the porch, the more that you’re diminished
A gravel gargling Gargamel trying to sound tough guy
Bring the clipper to your chins, time to let the fuzz fly
A true pugilist would never be a sucker puncher
Shout to all the kids you scare with your puckered thunder
hiding under covers protects you from his bullet raps
no Kevlar colostomy because he’s full of that
go ahead chant along to his nonsense
straight Code Red game fuel rap song blends
slouching at the stoop, see his pose, see the clothes
Working at the gas station between his European shows


from Ink From Rust, released March 18, 2017



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