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Mateen Cleaves

from 12 Crows on a Wire by Sankofa

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lyrics

Selfie prepping regimen, next step exfoliate
The goal to stain our teeth to blinding witness, wholly blazed
Note disdain as beef is rivals writhing in a Stoli daze
Less blood means fewer drinks to chase the buzz we cope with late
An open grave for overeager folk who overate
Mateen Cleaves with the cleaver swinging broken plates
Make no mistake they closed the gate, you check the lock is rusted
Chuck and Flav told us back in the days not to trust it
But here we are, wondering why the party goes without us
They go bananas for extended clips and frozen cowards
A soul devoured word to Sponyfield, the body reels
Delicacy with the frosty feels, cannot be healed
A delicatessen, serving the most delicious irony
A couple scoops for bubble goose produced the price of beef
So pluck the groove from the harpsichord from darker shores
Carcass gored for their amusement, lucid arts of war
Embark on tours where the glory day’s a gory maze
The more we raise funds they more it costs to score filets
Endorphins craved Robert Horry stays to hit from deep
Forget the ring, I’m here to tongue kiss the key and lift it free

My raps paint the Sistine chapel on the roof of my mouth
A rotten apple with acoustic bruises, moving it out
No doubt, brains are blown about, the winds of change a tornado
Scratching names in empty plaques Before they go
Thicker drops coagulate on windshields, it rains slow
Claim to keep it moving in a comp but couldn’t Winnebago
Pick a route, but best begin the way home, stick it out
Rod Strickland with the slickness sounds sicker now
Depict the sound, raw rhythm with the vision loud
Disavowed crucifixion picture started slipping down
Guess the pushpin couldn’t hold a Christ with plaster up
Communion ready consuming heavy so pass the cup
Disaster struck in just a moment when his guard was down
Scene turned to black with broken bones and loads of barking sounds
Expiration dates on toe tags to mark them down
Provoke brags pens are running dry when dope is dosage found
Associated with the sociopaths
Raising toasts in glasses with a cache of opium stashed
The ghostly passage dancing to the rain of dirt upon a casket
Baby blues run red, purple infants burping automatics
No thoughts of magic to disappear, the gauze is tattered
Too many kicks in here, boxes getting tossed in attics

credits

from 12 Crows on a Wire, released January 4, 2024

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Sankofa Fort Wayne

My rhymes kick in like a turbobooster.

Fort Wayne.

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