GeMS In ThE MEga ROuGH : VOLume VXIXX Bruising MiCs

 

Its been too much focus on war, war and more war…I have long neglected my eagerness, my obligation, to share with others a reminder of proper hippetyhop. Which is even more important in these ghoulish times of slimy mongs puffing joints and nodding their heads as their prime ‘appeal’…And so, without further ado, I begin my aural voyage, hopeful of others joining me, with Jeru. A man a close chum met many moons ago, and yet his long held admiration was dismissed, because he was white. Does this make me appreciate Jeru less? Not in the slightest. I admire his zeal, though disagree with his racism. His flow remains…galactic class.

Whilst I still to this day enjoy and bounce along to the Jeru wrath of the math, I find myself steered towards, by the winds of old times, the headshots crowd>>>

Sess was one of the slickest emcees who was ended before his time. Every rhyme he poured into the mic was purrrrrfect. Maybe his legacy was¬† meant to be this way. And his crowd…they were a collection of wicked men living life proud, naked, wild and free, and blessed with the capacity to bring their story to verse and bounce…

How I get from there to here,¬†might make sense to some…

Lif. An outcast poet pouring out his verse in the shadows.

Enough of the wicked beats and heartfelt, cursory helpful of intelligent, bouncy prose. I need to add Spirit to this symphony. Meaning.

Sage is not saying look at me. He is saying Look at THEM.

 

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