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Whose time is it???

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Anonymous

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Artist: Ray (actor Saul Williams)
Album: Slam soundtrack
Title: Sha-Clack-Clack

If I could find the spot where truth echoes
I would stand there and whisper memories of my children´s future
I would let their future dwell in my past
so that I might live a brighter now
Now is the essence of my domain and it contains
all that was and will be
And I am as I was and will be because I am and always will be
that nigga
I am that nigga
I am that nigga
I am that timeless nigga that swings on pendulums like vines
through mines of booby trapped minds that are enslaved by time
I am the life that supersedes lifetimes, I am
It was me with serpentine hair and a timeless stare
that with immortal glare turned mortal fear into stone time capsules
They still exist as the walking dead, as I do
The original sulphurhead, symbol of life and matriarchy
severed head Medusa, I am
I am that nigga
I am that nigga!
I am that nigga!!
I am a Negro! Yes negro, negro from _necro_ meaning death
I overcame it so they named me after it
And I be spitting at death from behind
and putting "Kick Me" signs on it´s back
because I am not the son of Sha-Clack-Clack
I am before that, I am before
I am before before
Before death is eternity, after death is eternity
There is no death there´s only eternity
And I be riding on the wings of eternity
like HYAH! HYAH! HYAH! Sha-Clack-Clack
but my flight doesn´t go undisturbed
Because time makes dreams defer
And all of my time fears are turning my days into day mares
And I live day mares reliving nightmares
of what taunted my past
Sha-Clack-Clack, time is beating my a**
And I be having dreams of chocolate covered watermelons
Filled with fried chickens like piŮatas
With little pickaninny sons and daughters
standing up under them with big sticks and aluminum foil
Hittin em, trying to catch pieces of falling fried chicken wings
And Aunt Jemima and Uncle Ben are standing in the corners
with rifles pointed at the heads of the little children
"Don´t shoot the children," I shout, "don´t shoot the children!"
but they say it´s too late
They´ve already been infected by time
But that shit is before my time
I need more time
I need more time
But it´s too late
They start shooting at children and killing them!
One by one, two by two, three by three, four by four
Five by five, six by six, but
my spirit is growing seven by seven
Faster than the speed of light
Cause light only penetrates the darkness that´s already there
and I´m already there
I´m here at the end of the road
which is the beginning of the road beyond time, but
where my niggaz at? (Oh shit!)

Oh shit, don´t tell me my niggaz got lost in time
My niggaz are dying before their time
My niggaz are serving unjust time
My niggaz are dying because of.. Time
null


Anonymous

  • Guest



constipated minds
By Kabelo ďant u?Ē Mofokeng

Rectumised butt-heads full of shit

with anus lips

release diarrhoea as it drips

drops like bombs

coming down hard


on the back of a man-made land

smelling faeces

split to pieces

like toilet tissues

unflushed blocking tubes

of marimba reason

jamming thinking

of constipated mindstates


(Kabelo Mofokeng is a young poet & prose writer
who lives in Phimville, Soweto. He writes to create
pictures of mind states.)


or


parallax paradox by

tha Hymphatic thabs

The words I wrote get absurd like ďoh shit!Ē got worse than Smoked Spliffs my verbal sick to murder most spit tuberculosis to burn your whole chest with germs that grow spread some worms that possess the sperms from Moses. Iím the living paradox that earns at roaches killings as a lock stock. My firm has grown since.

Prescriptions that the doctors seek as an orthopsy bleed sick things: Ham & pork with beef. Bad philosophies free victims read fiction religions have not taught us greed. Evictions feed rich kings. Please listen as it talks but see that my descriptions mild depictions.

Iíll need fifteen Nile Egyptian barren rocks scare the cops just because my hair is locked. Where is luck when you need it air is blocked from entering my nose the sentences I wrote shut cats that talk crap but could not even chatter box.

I just fit in parallax cameras. Iím the living paradox. Iím that hoodlum, hunted Bushmen drunken Muslim at the pubs wanted goods in catalogueís photo clips. Mad cause doors close so quick on hobo kids if you donít know shit just ask whatís up?

Add it up as the parrot talks. Iím the living paradox: thabs the Odd: soloist with a throat so big, I spat an Ox. Iím thabs the Odd: soloist with a throat so big, I spat an Ox! woman.



 










Anonymous

  • Guest
in all essence the rate at which South African hip-hop is dying is incresing at an alarming velocity
I stand qouted "f*** s.a hiphop!!!" :-Y


Dpleezy

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CLIK-O-SICKOS ANTHEM_

Intro_

Yo!
Yeah, what´s up muthaf***ers,
Yo! where my Clik-O-Sick niggas at?
Yo,! June, Chris, Nick, Yo, what up yo?
127, Lynden, what´s the deal?
Yo! Dplanet, Charl, Spook.
Yo all my real niggas, Rams, what up?
Yo Hurt ´em.

Verse01_
It´s Clik-O-Sick the first chapter,
Trusenz the lone actor,
The raptor that snaps more backs than chiropractors,
Now to the hereafter,
The sole benefactor of laughter at malefactors who lack practice,
Keep it moving along and singing a song,
The underground where you must prove to be strong,
No mercy for the feint hearted and straight-edged,
And those expelled have let the love go straight to their heads,
I exist in the form of the futuristic norm,
December 18th, born in the middle of a storm,
Niggas were hatin´, my coming meant MCs weren´t safe,
We ain´t debatin´ son, the battle means I´m up in your face,
Come get a taste of the flavour that explains my wild behaviour,
The way I rage on every page, nothing can save you,
The aftershock of my words, rush of my venom,
Clik-O-Sickos, the real deal, come and get some!


Chorus01_
Yo it´s the real deal Clik-O-Sick,
Real shit nigga, What´s up?!
And yo son, I´m not giving a f***!
So then tell ´em (what!)
Get ´em (what!)
Rip ´em (what!)
Yeah baby, what´s up,
The first to move be the first gettin´ touched.

Yo it´s the real deal Clik-O-Sick,
Real shit nigga, What´s up?!
And yo son, I´m not giving a f***!
So then tell ´em (what!)
Get ´em (what!)
Rip ´em (what!)
Yeah baby, what´s up,
The first to move be the first gettin´ touched.


Verse02_
After the storm comes the calm,
After the riot comes the change,
That´s why we steady tryin´ to get paid,
Stay rockin´ shows liver, ideas like McGuyver,
This is real life, there´s no immunity for survivors,
Hard times is what you facing, gotta deal with the stress,
And put it all together, you can feel it get tense,
Love your neighbour like your brother,
Keeps your enemies informed,
Tears coming out your mother isn´t why you were born,
After the days come the weeks and the months to follow,
After triumph, the challenges that love to follow,
After loss comes depression then a time to come back,
Once bitten, twice shy, kid, it´s time to react,
After me comes another, let me get it while I can,
I got problems, but can´t keep blaming the lighter man,
Reconcile my inner being with the strength of my team,
And resurrect my ancestors with the message I bring.


Chorus02_
Yo it´s the real deal Clik-O-Sick,
Real shit nigga, What´s up?!
And yo son, I´m not giving a f***!
So then tell ´em (what!)
Get ´em (what!)
Rip ´em (what!)
Yeah baby, what´s up,
The first to move be the first gettin´ touched.

Yo it´s the real deal Clik-O-Sick,
Real shit nigga, What´s up?!
And yo son, I´m not giving a f***!
So then tell ´em (what!)
Get ´em (what!)
Rip ´em (what!)
Yeah baby, what´s up,
The first to move be the first gettin´ touched.


Verse03_
Before music there was silence, the heart was the beat,
Ready to change itself to rhythm to be partly complete,
And poetry was what we saw, it was visibly raw,
So it was up to us to put it together like never before,
The pioneers did it in the pioneer spirit,
It was beauty, created so the world could hear it,
Then the snakes and fakes began to make the mistake,
Of duplicating, not acceptable, no matter the stake,
The real hated it, how can you mess with somebody´s favourite,
Flavour of music and think you´ll clean get away with it,
Immitation is weak and really incomplete,
Relying on true artists for a voice to speak,
There´s a war without a title, music fights for her survival,
It used to be tribal but now we caught up in a spiral,
Headed down to the core, so what we bringing is raw,
And I´mma shine my light on this game like never before.


Chorus03_
Yo it´s the real deal Clik-O-Sick,
Real shit nigga, What´s up?!
And yo son, I´m not giving a f***!
So then tell ´em (what!)
Get ´em (what!)
Rip ´em (what!)
Yeah baby, what´s up,
The first to move be the first gettin´ touched.

Yo it´s the real deal Clik-O-Sick,
Real shit nigga, What´s up?!
And yo son, I´m not giving a f***!
So then tell ´em (what!)
Get ´em (what!)
Rip ´em (what!)
Yeah baby, what´s up,
The first to move be the first gettin´ touched.


Outro_
Yo, Yo, A-Dub,
My nigga Javier, Carlos, what´s up!
Yo, all my real niggas, Solo, Jay, What up!
Yo, all my niggas, hold it down,
It´s Clik-O-Sickos, we ain´t no clowns,
Niggas know son, Yo! We ain´t f***ing around,
This is for all y´all real muthaf***ers,
Hear me!
What!



Anonymous

  • Guest
verse1: SENTENCES by KONFAB feat. MPISI

"...i´m sommer coming in for a landing without pardon
like osama bin laden, i´m coming harder than
when you hit it raw but when it´s time for war you´ll need protection
so condomise your minds i´m coming through with potent diction
ke blind, i´m all the time jotting my rhymes in braille
i come off on the track but never derail
keep my hands on the a**ets of females
while they lay by/buy like expensive retail
then i stick the log in like checking your e-mail
i´m so underground i´m subterranean, uranium
and you worship my name like it´s hussein and you´re iranean
i found my game in stadiums, my fame in entertainment
that delight both horny ariens and senile sexegenarians
initiate - circumcise the genocide of genitals
i decimate you to decimal, i desecrate your decibel
dissociate your beats, rip the whole ma** to pieces
peep these lyrical masterpieces please, i´m coming through with tighter lines than creases...
just a word of caution to whoever´s next up to battle me
be careful, here´s an earful: i rhyme hexasyllabically..."