Tactical murder

See him speaks, as he hits the words, like Glen Goulde hits the keys of a piano,
his a pioneer at work, speaking with  rhythm of beats that exhale from african drums.
Making rhymes and giving them reason,  making your live come alive as his vocals erupt the dominant lava of confidence in you, causing it to shoot out of your mouth, like breathe in your lungs, which signifies that you worth a lot more then your own assumptions.
He also releases scripts of the soul, the kinda shit that make him a prophet, but don’t get it wrong, he is not a prophet, his a poet/writer
But his philosophies are like the prophecies which make you see the truth, the truth that the world deluded you with for so long, the propaganda that leads you to fake prosperity.
Cause that prosperity you seek, does not match the purity the soul possess, yes the world gives you prosperity, but its the type that makes them benefit more and turns you into an ignorant slave.

He speaks words that bring the darkness to the light, the moon in the twilight, making the shadow of the eclipse disappear, as the dust that blows before your eyes in a desert storm
Speaking of storm, his flow, flows like the wind in your lungs, as your current breathe is intangible.

Make me listen to me as you replay my shit on a tape you took without my notice, as cc-tvs that watch your every movement.
His a lyrical menace, menacing like a lion, but his prey is the ignorance that we all possess
His the best poet alive
His the most intelligent man
This are his claims
cause his knowledge has dissolved with the wisdom, making the pyramid of revelations dreamed by past heros fall on him, making his mental captivity clearer then the rest.

But I leave it to you to decide


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